Chapter 2—MATE.

BREA

Five years later.

My alarm rang at five fifty a.m, waking me up from a restless night. For five years, my nights had been filled with nightmares. A constant reminder of the rejection I had faced years ago.

I still remember that afternoon like the back of my hand. I remember how much the rejection seared at my ribs, leaving me completely weak.

I had run away from the pack to start a new life. Yet every time I closed my eyes, all I remembered was Rhonda and Michael.

I grudgingly stood up from my bed and walked to Blake's room. He was still fast asleep. I picked him up and kissed his forehead. "Good morning, sweetheart," I said as he stretched awake.

"Good morning, mummy." He hugged me.

"Did you sleep well, baby?"

"I did."

"That's good," I said and helped him wear his slippers. "Let's get you ready for school."

Blake was four years and a few months now. He was the best thing to ever happen to me. He was smart and sharp and had his father's features. The most handsome little baby I had ever seen. Raising and caring for him had been a blessing.

I brushed his teeth, bathed him and went to prepare breakfast while he dressed himself. He stopped allowing me to dress him the moment he clocked four years. "I'm now a big boy," he said.

Thinking about it now made me grin.

"Come have breakfast sweetie. You're going to be late," I called for him.

He was down in the next second. A constant daily routine.

After breakfast, we waited for the school bus. It arrived at seven thirty on the dot. "Don't be late again today, mummy," he said standing at the entrance of the bus.

"I won't be. But if—"

"No ifs, Mummy," he said with a grin before stepping onto the school bus. The doors folded shut behind him, and he pressed his little palm against the window.

I laughed despite myself and blew him a kiss.

"Have a wonderful day, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too!"

The driver pulled away from the curb, and I stood there waving until the bright yellow bus disappeared around the corner. Only then did I let out a slow breath and glance at the time on my wristwatch.

"Oh no."

I was going to be late.

The peaceful mother in me disappeared, replaced by the neurosurgeon who lived by schedules, precision, and impossible deadlines. I hurried back into the house, kicked off my flats at the entrance, and headed straight upstairs. Within minutes, hot water poured over my shoulders as I mentally reviewed the day's surgical schedule. I had a complex brain tumor resection in the morning, followed by two consultations and an emergency case that had been transferred overnight. There was no room for distractions.

By the time I stepped out of the shower, the bathroom mirror had fogged over. I wrapped a towel around myself, quickly dried my hair, and changed into a crisp blouse, tailored trousers, and a fitted blazer before applying just enough makeup to look awake. My stethoscope disappeared into my work bag, my car keys found their usual place in my hand, and after one final glance around the house to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything, I locked the front door behind me and headed for the hospital.

"I'm so sorry," I said immediately, after slamming into the chest of a man. His papers flew and scattered all over the place.

"Oh no."

I immediately dropped to my knees, gathering the papers that had scattered across the hospital lobby. Patients, nurses, and interns hurried past us, but all I could think about was how spectacularly I had managed to start my morning.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated, reaching for another file before the air conditioner could carry it farther away. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

A polished black shoe stepped into my line of sight.

"I can see that."

The voice was deep, calm, and annoyingly composed.

I looked up for only a second before lowering my gaze again.

"I'm really sorry."

"It's alright."

"No, it isn't. These look important."

"They are."

I winced.

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

To my surprise, a soft chuckle escaped him.

"It wasn't supposed to."

I gathered the last folder and stood, carefully arranging everything before handing it back to him.

"Here. I don't think anything is missing."

He accepted the stack without taking his eyes off me.

"Thank you."

I finally allowed myself a proper look at him.

He was impossibly tall, well over six foot three, with broad shoulders that filled out his charcoal suit effortlessly. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his sharp jaw looked as though it had been carved from stone. There was something commanding about him, something that made the busy hospital seem strangely quiet despite the constant movement around us.

For the briefest moment, his silver-gray eyes held mine.

Something about them felt… familiar.

I frowned, but before I could make sense of the feeling, my watch vibrated.

My eyes widened.

"My surgery."

I looked back at him apologetically.

"I'm terribly sorry again. I really have to run."

He inclined his head.

"Then don't let me keep you."

"Have a good day."

"You too... Doctor."

I offered him one last apologetic smile before turning on my heel and hurrying toward the restricted surgical wing.

Four hours later… I peeled off my surgical gloves and released a slow breath.

"Beautiful work, Doctor Brea," one of the residents said as the patient was wheeled toward recovery.

"Thank you. Let's keep monitoring his vitals. Call me immediately if there's any neurological change, no matter how small."

"Yes, Doctor."

I removed my surgical cap, running my fingers through my hair before heading toward the doctors' lounge.

The moment I stepped inside, my new best friend and fellow neurosurgeon, Amelia, slid a cup of coffee toward me.

"You look like someone who just fought death and won."

"I practically did."

She laughed.

"Successful?"

"Thankfully. It was a tough one."

I collapsed into the chair opposite her and reached for the granola bar sitting beside the coffee.

"I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"That's because you're incapable of taking care of yourself while you're working."

"I'm taking care of myself now."

"Barely."

I unwrapped the snack.

"You sound like my son."

"Blake has more sense than you."

"He definitely thinks so."

Amelia smiled warmly.

"How is my favorite little gentleman?"

"Still reminding me not to be late."

"As he should."

I laughed quietly.

"He acts like he's the parent sometimes."

"I've met him. He absolutely is."

Before I could respond, the intercom crackled to life.

"Attention all medical staff. The hospital director requests the presence of every senior consultant, attending physician, and department head in Conference Room One. This meeting will begin in ten minutes."

Amelia sighed dramatically.

"There goes my peaceful lunch."

"I didn't even finish mine."

"You surgeons complain too much."

"We've earned the right."

We stood together and made our way toward the conference room, where nearly every doctor in the hospital had already gathered.

The room buzzed with silent conversations until the director walked inside.

Instantly, everyone fell silent.

"Good afternoon, everyone."

"Good afternoon, sir," we answered in unison.

The director smiled.

"I won't keep you long. As many of you already know, our hospital board has spent several months searching for someone to lead our surgical department. After a lengthy process, we've found the perfect candidate."

He turned toward the entrance.

"Please come in."

The door opened.

The moment I saw him, my heart skipped.

It was the man from the lobby.

The same one whose papers I had knocked to the floor.

He walked inside with confidence, dressed in another impeccably tailored suit that somehow made him look even more intimidating than he had earlier.

Several female doctors gasped quietly.

"Oh my God..."

"He's gorgeous."

"Is he seriously our new boss?"

"I've never seen a man that handsome."

Someone behind me whispered loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"I suddenly love coming to work."

Soft laughter spread across the room.

I wanted to laugh too.

Instead, I froze.

Because while everyone else was admiring him...

He was looking directly at me.

His silver eyes settled on mine as though he had been searching the room for only one person.

Heat crept into my cheeks.

Why was he staring at me?

Did he recognize me because of this morning?

Please don't let him mention the papers.

The director continued, completely oblivious to my growing discomfort.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Doctor Alexander Knox."

Polite applause filled the room.

"He is one of the territory's leading neurosurgeons and cardiovascular surgeons. In addition to serving as Head of Surgery, he brings years of leadership experience from Silver Moon Medical Institute."

A strange ripple passed through the room at the mention of Silver Moon.

Among wolves, that name carried weight.

Everyone knew Silver Moon was one of the strongest territories in the country.

Alexander offered a brief nod.

"It's a pleasure to be here. I look forward to working with each of you."

His voice was calm, controlled, and carried the quiet authority of someone who expected to be listened to without ever raising it.

The director clapped once.

"Let's all introduce ourselves. Name, specialty, and position."

The introductions began from the front.

"I'm Doctor Sarah Coleman, Head of Pediatrics."

"I'm Doctor James Foster, Orthopedic Consultant."

"I'm Doctor Amelia Carter, Consultant Neurosurgeon."

One after another, everyone introduced themselves.

Eventually, it was my turn.

I stood.

"I'm Doctor Brea Anderson. Consultant Neurosurgeon."

Alexander's gaze met mine again.

This time, something flickered across his face.

Recognition.

The director smiled.

"Excellent. Since Doctor Brea and Doctor Knox share the same specialty, she'll be showing him around the hospital this afternoon."

Every eye turned toward me.

I forced a professional smile.

"Of course."

The meeting ended shortly afterward, and the room gradually emptied.

Alexander approached me with unhurried steps.

"It seems we're meeting for the second time today."

I laughed awkwardly.

"I promise I don't usually attack strangers before work."

One corner of his mouth lifted.

"I believe you."

"I'm glad."

There was an odd ease between us that shouldn't have existed.

"Shall we?" I asked.

"Lead the way."

We toured the operating theaters, intensive care units, emergency wing, and research department. He listened attentively, asking thoughtful questions, and I found myself relaxing despite my earlier embarrassment.

By the time we reached the main elevators, the conversation had become surprisingly comfortable.

"The surgical wing is on the twelfth floor," I said, pressing the button.

The doors slid open and we stepped inside.

The instant the elevator doors closed...

An invisible force slammed into my chest.

My breath caught.

My wolf, silent for five years after Michael's rejection, suddenly jolted awake with such overwhelming excitement that I nearly staggered.

Mate!

The word exploded inside my head.

At the exact same moment, Alexander sucked in a sharp breath.

His head snapped toward me.

Shock filled his silver eyes.

His wolf had spoken too.

Our gazes locked.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us breathed.

Only one word echoed between us.

Mate.