Chapter 3

Chloe's POV

Paul froze, his face turning a shade of white that usually belongs on a morgue slab.

"That's impossible... impossible!" He backed away, stammering, staring at the crystal in my hand like it was a cursed object.

I ignored him, my hand steady as a rock.

I guided the last of the crystal's lingering frost into the contours of the boy's forehead, sealing the treatment.

This was the final step. As the violent, internal heat was fully suppressed, the little boy's eyes finally fluttered open.

They were a striking, liquid gold, framed by unnervingly long lashes.

He looked up at me silently. He was still pale, but that eerie, crimson glow beneath his skin had completely gone dark.

After a beat of dead silence, the crowd erupted into a wave of disbelief and cheers.

I packed the ice crystal back into my kit and snapped it shut. "He's fine now," I said flatly.

"The kid hasn't said a word since he woke up," Paul sneered from the sidelines, desperate to save face. "Who's to say your little 'magic rock' didn't fry his brain? There could be permanent neurological damage."

A well-dressed middle-aged woman nearby frowned at him. "The boy is awake and breathing. Why are you fishing for 'brain damage'? You're just looking for an excuse not to apologize, aren't you?"

"Mind your own business!" Paul snapped, his eyes darting across the crowd. "Oh, I get it. You're all in on this together, right? A little grift in front of the Caesars? I knew you 'spiritual healer' types were all frauds."

Listening to Paul's shrill insults, I felt my inner wolf let out a low, predatory snarl in the back of my mind.

My fingertips started to itch—that raw, werewolf strength beginning to pool in my palms, itching to tear the throat out of the man insulting me.

Surprisingly, the little boy spoke first. His voice was weak, but it carried a chilling, detached authority. "Sir, if your medical skills are this poor, you should probably spend more time in the library."

"You—!" Paul was struck dumb.

The middle-aged woman burst out laughing. "Hear that, DC Medical star? The kid told you to hit the books."

"I don't waste my breath on people at the bottom of the food chain," Paul hissed, his face flushing a deep purple. "A bunch of nobodies."

As he opened his mouth for another insult, my fingers closed around a hard candy I'd intended to give the boy.

The pressure behind my fingernails grew—my wolf was screaming for a release.

I flicked my wrist, and the candy blurred through the air, whistling past Paul's cheek.

There was a dull thud as it embedded itself deep into the solid trunk of a tree behind him, shaking loose a shower of dead leaves.

Paul went rigid, staring at the piece of candy buried in the wood.

I looked at him slowly, letting a cold, lifeless smile spread across my face. "Forgot something, didn't you?"

Paul's voice trembled. "Forgot... forgot what?"

"Kneel. Apologize." My tone was playful, but I let my aura begin to settle over him like a suffocating weight.

Paul tried to bluff his way out, backing away. "Everyone makes mistakes in triage! I don't have time for this."

"That's it?" the woman mocked. "Professor Carrillo's prize student loses to a girl on the street and doesn't even have the balls to apologize? Pathetic."

"My ethics are not up for debate by the likes of you!"

Paul yelled, sounding more unhinged by the second. "Who can prove I said anything? You people couldn't afford a single consultation with Professor Carrillo in your entire lives. You should be honored I even looked at the brat! A bunch of lowlifes looking for a lawsuit—don't you know where we are?"

I let out a short, sharp hum. The Alpha aura I'd been holding back slammed into him like a tidal wave.

Paul's knees hit the concrete with a sickening thud.

"Agggh!" He let out a strangled cry, struggling to stand, but he found himself pinned to the ground by an invisible, crushing force.

I walked over to him, my voice dropping to sub-zero temperatures. "The title of 'Doctor' isn't a license to look down on people. It's for saving lives. Your skills are trash, and your ethics are worse. Consider this kneel a favor to Professor Carrillo—I'm cleaning up her mess."

"You!" Paul's eyes were pure venom.

I leaned down, whispering just for him. "Since you've got such thick skin, I'm sure you won't mind staying right there for an hour or two."

"What did you do to me!" Paul screamed in terror. "I'm calling the police! This is assault!"

I just smiled. "Who's going to testify? Sir, you knelt down all on your own. I never touched you."

"Exactly! Serves you right!" the crowd jeered, thrilled to see him taken down a peg. "She didn't do a thing. Stop being a drama queen!"

The locals weren't exactly fans of his elitist attitude. They started chanting, "Hey, everyone! Come look! The DC doctor is begging for forgiveness because he doesn't know his medicine!"

"You... all of you!" Paul's face was beet-red, the words catching in his throat.

As the crowd grew, he buried his head in his hands, wishing the sidewalk would swallow him whole.

The look he shot me was murderous, likely plotting some kind of revenge.

I didn't give him a second thought. If there was a next time, I'd just break his legs and be done with it.

The little boy had watched the entire thing in eerie silence.

I looked down at him. "Still dizzy?"

The boy shook his head, looking up at me with those huge, golden eyes. "Thank you for saving me, lady. I'm Blake. I would have been a goner without you."

His voice was sweet, and he even gave me a polite, formal bow.

"Your name is Blake?" I raised an eyebrow. "Where are your parents?"

"They're inside," the boy said, pointing a small hand toward the hotel.

He was pointing at the main entrance of the Caesars Palace—a place most people couldn't even get past the lobby.