Chapter 4

I blinked at him, unable to stop the sharp breath that left me. “What?” I stepped closer to the bed, keeping my expression steady even though the sudden shift in his voice unsettled me.

“Alpha Jaron, you’re in no condition to go anywhere. It’s better to stay in the hospital than go home while you’re still in recovery.”

He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if he were forcing himself not to explode again.

“How can I stay inside this hospital,” he said, his tone low but coiled with agitation, “if every time I inhale the smell of this room, it makes me more sick than my injuries? I feel like I’m being imprisoned here.” He gestured around the private room, the sterile walls and medical monitors reflecting in his narrowed eyes. “I’m trapped. And I don’t do cages.”

Behind me, Marga stepped forward cautiously, her fingertips brushing the side of her stethoscope as if grounding herself.

“Dr. Ford, I think he has a point,” she said softly. “He’s an Alpha. Isolation, especially in sterile environments, affects their recovery more negatively than most patients. Being around his pack might help stabilize his stress levels and…”

I shot her a look, not angry, just assessing, and saw she wasn’t siding with him out of fear this time. Her gaze was thoughtful, genuinely considering the medical implication. That made me pause.

Alpha Jaron noticed it too. His lips tugged upward, not into a smile, but into something that mocked the idea of one. “See? Even the cardiologist understands what you don’t.”

I exhaled slowly, controlling the irritation curling under my ribs. “I am not keeping you here out of ego. I’m saying it because you’re not fully healed.”

He scoffed, the sound sharp. “My pack needs me,” he said, his voice firm and unmistakably proud.

“They need to see their Alpha alive. They need to know I’m still capable, still leading. I won’t let them think I’m a weak Alpha lying in a f*ckshit hospital bed.”

The words landed heavier than I expected. His pride wasn’t just arrogance; there was responsibility layered beneath it, an Alpha’s fear of losing authority, of appearing vulnerable. I found myself staring at him for a moment longer than necessary, understanding what he wasn’t saying out loud.

“I can still lead,” he continued, shifting slightly in bed. The movement made pain flash across his expression, but he swallowed it back before it could fully show.

“Even injured, I’m still their Alpha. They’ll see me, and that alone is enough.”

Marga glanced between us, her brows knitting together. “And emotionally,” she said carefully, “being around people who matter to him could inspire him to cooperate better with therapy.”

I didn’t miss the subtle emphasis she placed on the word cooperate.

That time, I hesitated. If the environment here was causing him psychological distress, that could hinder physical healing more than I wanted to admit. His blood pressure earlier had spiked far too easily. His respirations were inconsistent. Maybe this wasn’t stubbornness alone. Maybe he really felt suffocated here.

I pressed my lips together, thinking it through while his gaze bore into me. He waited with the patience of someone who was used to getting exactly what he wanted.

“Fine,” I finally said, drawing in a slow breath.

“If going home will help your psychological response and motivation, then I won’t stop you, Alpha.” I wasn’t giving him permission; I was giving him a choice framed by medical boundaries.

“But before you leave this hospital, we need to run another series of lab tests to make sure everything is functioning properly. Inflammation markers, clotting, internal swelling, blood pressure baseline, we need all of that to confirm we’re not risking complications.”

His reaction came in the form of a low, mocking laugh. “Dr. Collins will not allow you to put me through a session if something is wrong. If he cleared me to be under your care, then I’m fine.”

My eyebrow twitched upward. “That doesn’t change the fact that you are under my care now,” I replied, my tone sharpening with authority as I crossed my arms. “And if something happens to you on the way home because you refused further evaluation, that falls on me. So to avoid future headaches for both of us, we’re doing the labs.”

He leaned back slightly, irritation glinting in his eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re reckless,” I countered calmly. “So I guess we’re even.”

Marga let out a tiny breath, one that sounded dangerously close to a laugh she was trying to suppress.

Jaron’s gaze flicked to her, his eyes narrowing like a wolf warning another to stay silent. She straightened immediately, lips pressed shut.

He returned his gaze to me, his nostrils flaring with impatience. “Whatever,” he muttered, throwing the word like a weapon.

I lifted my chin, refusing to flinch. “Good. Then let’s proceed.”

He glared at me with the full force of his Alpha presence, but beneath it, something else stirred, reluctant respect, maybe, or curiosity, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to throw me out the window or tolerate me a moment longer.

I lifted a hand, stopping Marga before she could tap her screen. “We’ll handle that after lunch,” I said, keeping my voice firm but even.

Alpha Jaron’s brows pulled together sharply. “Lunch?” he echoed, as if the word personally offended him.

“Yes. Lunch,” I replied, stepping around the bed to fix the blanket he had kicked aside without noticing.

“You’re stable for the next two hours, and you’re not going anywhere until those labs are done. So you can wait.”

His eyes followed my hand as I straightened the blanket. He didn’t stop me, but the tension in his jaw sharpened like he was two seconds from growling.

I met his gaze without flinching. “We’ll get back to you later, Alpha. For now, I’m having lunch with Dr. Carpio.”

Something unreadable flared across his eyes, annoyance, disbelief, maybe the shock that someone dared prioritize something other than him.

His hand twitched on the sheets. “You’re not done here.”

“I am,” I said simply, pulling off my gloves with measured calm. “And you’re not my only responsibility in this hospital. You don’t get to dictate my schedule.”

Marga blinked at me as if I had just stepped into the lion’s den and back out without a scratch. Alpha Jaron glared at me with a fresh wave of irritation, his Alpha aura pressing outward like a heated storm.

He didn’t scare me.

“You can stare all you want,” I added, turning toward the door. “It won’t change the fact that we’re leaving.”

I gestured to Marga. “Let’s go.”

We walked out before he could gather another argument, the door clicking shut behind us. I didn’t miss the faint, frustrated exhale from his room, like a caged wolf forced to wait.

Marga jogged slightly to catch up to me. “You’re really not scared of him, huh?”

I shrugged, keeping my tone flat. “I don’t let anyone, Alpha or not, dictate my work.”

Her grin bloomed instantly. “God, you’re incredible. I would have melted if he stared at me like that.”

“He stares at people like he hopes they combust,” I muttered, pushing the elevator button. “It’s not personal. It’s his personality.”

Marga laughed as the elevator doors opened and we stepped inside.

The cafeteria was crowded, the scent of steamed rice and grilled chicken mixing with antiseptic from the hallway. Marga and I picked the quieter corner, and I had just placed our trays down when I froze.

A familiar scent. Not mate scent, not warmth. Just something that once meant home and now tasted like a cold blade sliding under the ribs.

Alpha Ethan.

My ex-husband.