Chapter 3

I squared my shoulders, keeping my voice calm but firm. “I’m Dr. Kahlia Ford, your physical therapist. And she is Dr. Marga Carpio, a licensed cardiologist. So you should respect her! No one in this room deserves to be shouted at!”

Alpha Jaron’s laugh was low and bitter, dripping with mockery. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m an Alpha, the Alpha of the Steel Fang Pack. Do you really think you can dictate me?”

I held his gaze, unflinching. “Being an Alpha doesn’t give you the rights to disrespect doctors. Right now, you’re injured and you need our expertise. That’s not optional. Disrespect is!”

Marga hesitated behind me, her hand fluttering nervously at her chest. “Alpha Jaron… I...” Her voice caught in her throat. “I just… I didn’t mean anything. I didn’t expect you to wake up…”

“I… I’m sorry if I touched your face while you were sleeping, Alpha” she apologized softly.

“What?!” I turned to her, startled.

“You heard her, didn’t you?” he asked, his brows furrowing deeply.

I didn’t hesitate. “Marga, don’t give him any reason to disrespect our profession as doctors.”

“I’m sorry,”Marga apologized again.

He leaned forward slightly, the sheets rustling as he flexed his bandaged limbs. “I’ve spent my life commanding obedience. And now you…” His finger jabbed at me. “…think you can tell me what to do?”

I stepped closer,“Yes. Because this is about your recovery. You can continue to act like this and prolong your healing or you can cooperate. That choice is yours.”

Marga swallowed, eyes wide, clearly drawing strength from my presence.

Jaron’s fists clenched under the covers. “I don’t need help! I can handle this myself!” His roar filled the room, nearly shaking the walls.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t step back. My shoulders squared, my voice steady, my gaze locked on him.

“Alpha Jaron,” I said, deliberate and firm, “I am your physical therapist. I am here to do my job.

His nostrils flared. “I told you, I don’t need help!”

“No,” I said, stepping closer. “You paid twenty million for your recovery. That alone proves you need help.”

Marga stiffened behind me. Even she seemed stunned by the number I threw at him. But I didn’t break eye contact with Alpha Jaron as I said it.

His gaze hardened, anger flickering deep in those icy blue eyes, but beneath the intimidation, something else flashed: truth. A truth he couldn’t deny.

His voice dropped into a low growl. “Fine. But not from you. Not from someone who talks to me like you’re above me. You should know your place, Doctor. You two should be the ones to respect me!”

I felt Marga’s hand tremble as she clutched her own fingers, terrified he would lash out again. I didn’t turn. I held his glare directly, grounding myself in the responsibility I carried.

"Really? Well, Respect should be earned, Alpha, not demanded.” I answered. 

A muscle twitched in his cheek. He hated the truth of it.

His finger pointed at me again, sharp and accusing. “Who are you to lecture me? Do you have any idea who I am?”

“I know that you are an Alpha. You don’t need to remind me of that,” I said without blinking.

“But aside from that, you are a difficult patient with a healing window that is closing. And right now, I am the person standing between you and permanent disability.”

His brows furrowed. His breath hitched. He wasn’t expecting me to say that.

The silence that followed held weight. Thick, hot, suffocating tension wrapped around the three of us. Jaron’s hands curled into tight fists beneath the blanket, his body vibrating with stubborn pride and unspoken fear.

“Leave,” he said finally. The word snapped like a whip through the air.

Marga flinched. I did not move.

He lifted his head slowly, anger darkening his eyes. “I said leave.”

I shook my head. “No.”

Marga choked softly on her own breath behind me. “Dr. Ford… maybe we should…”

“No,” I said firmly, keeping my eyes pinned to Jaron’s. “If we leave, then you stay like this forever.”

His jaw flexed. His voice dropped into a cold, dangerous tone. “Watch your words.”

“I am,” I answered. “Very carefully. So listen to me.”

I took another step toward him, my presence unwavering even as he glared back with the sharpness of a blade.

“You keep saying you don’t need help. You keep shouting that you can handle this yourself. But let us be realistic here. Once I walk out of this room, no physical therapist will accept your case.”

He stiffened.

“Not one. Because they are scared of you. Because they cannot handle you. They refuse to come back after your outbursts!"

His fingers twitched. He did not deny it.

“But I am not scared of you,” I said, my voice lower but stronger. “And that is why I'm standing here.”

The room fell deathly still.

“Well, you have two choices, Alpha. Live the rest of your life disabled, or let me help you,” I said firmly.

Marga’s breathing was shallow. Jaron’s eyes locked on mine with an intensity that could burn. For a long moment, the only sound was the soft beeping of his monitor.

Then he inhaled. Deep. Slow. Controlled. His chest rose with a reluctant acceptance, though his pride tried to fight it.

“Fine,” he muttered.

Marga sighed in relief behind me.

But the way he said it told me it was not surrender. It was a compromise he hated.

Jaron’s gaze swept up to meet mine again. “But not here.”

I frowned, tilting my head slightly as I studied him. “What do you mean not here?”

Alpha Jaron shifted against the pillows, his gaze sharpening as it locked onto mine. “I want to go home.”

His voice dropping into a low command. “I want you to treat me there, Dr.Ford."