3: Life After Varek

Four Years Later

The ward’s scent filters hummed quietly overhead, stripping most of the blood, fear, and wolf musk from the air. The monitors blinked yellow, their stuttering beeps matching the uneven rhythm of the boy’s heartbeat. His pulse was unstable, skipping beats every few seconds as his body tried to shift again before recovering from the last transformation.

“Hello Atta, how do you feel?” I asked, keeping my voice calm despite the chaotic lines on the screen.

“Like a train ran over me,” he replied, trying not to groan. He tried to mask it, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the bedrail.

“I'm going to draw a little blood from your arm so we can run some tests and figure out what’s triggering this.”

I found the vein, swabbed it, and slid the needle in. He winced, his fangs briefly elongating before receding.

Then I opened his file and added a few treatment orders.

“Nurse Vi, ensure that he gets these.” I handed over the file and strode to the door.

“I'll head over to the lab and be back in a few hours. If you feel the shift taking over again, hit the red button. The nurses will rush in here to attend to you. Don't fight it alone.”

I walked out of the ward with the blood sample and headed straight to the laboratory.

“Hey, Mark. Run this blood sample through these tests.”

I handed the paper I had scribbled on earlier, along with the glass tube, to the lab technician on the other side of the glass.

“You could have sent one of the nurses,” he replied.

“This one is quite important, and I need the results as soon as possible.”

He took the paper and assessed it.

“Will be ready in three hours.”

“Send the results to my email.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

I pushed the glasses sliding down the bridge of my nose further up and returned to my office.

Cool air wrapped around me the moment I stepped into my office. Lydia from maintenance deserves a raise.

I dropped into my chair and leaned back. It had been a hectic day, and it wasn't even 11 yet. Between the two young wolves who had torn into each other at school, the Grade 8 student whose shift had stalled halfway, and Atta’s uncontrollable transformations, the morning had been relentless.

I still had patient details to upload to the medical server, so I got back to work.

I was halfway through logging shift-trauma reports when his familiar scent reached me—rain-soaked earth beneath the warmer smell of cocoa.

A light knock sounded, and before I could answer, the door eased open.

“Hello darling.”

I raised my head to look at him.

There was my fine man in all his glory, holding a cup of hot chocolate tea and lunch.

“You skipped lunch again. It's 2 o’clock, and since I didn't see you at the cafeteria, I knew my baby was working herself to the bone.”

“Oh my love.” I stood up from my seat, collected the package from him, then pulled him into my arms and kissed him properly.

“Thank you for rescuing me, my prince charming.”

“Any day, my darling.”

Grayson Vale pulled up a seat, and I eased back into my chair and closed my laptop—work could wait for another thirty minutes.

As I took a sip of my chocolate tea, a gentle tap on the doorframe interrupted us. The lab technician peered in.

“I sent you an email about twenty minutes ago.”

“Thanks, Mark. I’ll review them in a bit.”

Mark grinned, catching sight of Grayson.

“Hello Grayson, congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”

“I'm a fulfilled man.” Grayson leaned back with a smile.

I rolled my eyes at both of them.

Once Mark shut the door behind him, Grayson reached for my left hand. My engagement ring gleamed on my finger.

“Thank you for making me the happiest man in Thornwood.”

“Won't you take some time off so that we can plan the wedding properly?”

“You have been trying to turn this wedding into an enormous political event for both families.”

“No, my darling. I’m just trying to marry you,” he said. “Can you blame me for wanting an audience?”

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated on the desk. Once, twice, then a continuous stream of rapid chimes.

I picked it up, expecting an emergency alert from the ER. Instead, the pack group chats were exploding with rapid-fire messages and shocked emojis. I swiped past them until a push notification from the Regional Supernatural Network filled my screen:

MISSING DRAVEN HEIR RETURNS AFTER YEARS IN EXILE

My thumb hovered over the screen, then I tapped it.

The image loaded slowly.

Dark hair swept back and a sharper jaw than I remembered. He stood beside a black G-Wagon, surrounded by reporters and Draven security; his tailored charcoal suit made him look nothing like the man I met.

For one second. Then it was that day all over again. The strangled gasp when my blade sank into his chest. The way his hand had shot out and clamped around my wrist. The shock in his eyes.

Before Grayson could glance at the screen, I minimized the app and dropped the phone onto the desk.

“What’s wrong?” Grayson asked, his smile fading as he caught my expression. “What is it?”

I couldn't answer.

The image was gone from my screen, but it was burned into my mind.

A dead man was looking right into the camera.

And he was smiling.