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Chapter 24: The Physician's Report
publish date:
2026-09-20 23:45:15
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Three days after the attack the physician cleared the shoulder for limited use and told me the headache was no longer a reason to delay the schedule. I stood in the bathing room with the residual bruise dark along the joint and tested the range again. Stiff. Manageable. The split skin on my head had closed. The lockdown on the wing had eased by degrees into something still heavy but no longer absolute. Meals still came under observation. The doubled watch remained. The braced shutters had been replaced with proper reinforced fittings that opened only a hand's width. The contract had not paused for my injuries. It had only waited. Oliver came in the late afternoon without the formal layers and without the investigator. He closed the door and looked at me the way he had before the attack had forced anything raw into the open. Controlled. Practical. As if the two visits on the day of the attempt had been a security response and nothing more. "You have been cleared," he said. "T
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He closed the door and stood with his back to it. He looked as if the day of council statements and security sweeps had scraped something raw under the control and left it close to the surface. "The formal report has been given," he said. "The attempt is now part of the public record of the contract. The council is divided between those who want you removed as a source of instability and those who understand that removing you ends the only viable bloodline path currently recorded. The division will not resolve tonight." He crossed the room and stopped at the foot of the bed. His gaze moved over the careful way I was holding my shoulder, then to my face. "You are in pain." he said. "Yes." I answered. No performance. No softening of it. He was silent for a breath. Then he sat on the edge of the chair near the table, not close enough to touch, close enough that the smaller room made the distance feel deliberate rather than distant. "The attacker confirmed one additional det
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He straightened. "If you attempt to leave this room for any reason that is not a direct order from me, the guards have instructions to stop you and with force if need be." he said. "And if the people who bought the gap decide a locked door is only another problem to solve?" I asked. "Then they will discover that the next person through that door uninvited will not be given the chance to speak." he replied softly. The promise sat in the room like drawn steel. Still not gentle. Still not a confession. Harder and more personal than the version he had given me before the attack. He turned as if to leave, then stopped. The space between the bed and the door held the memory of his hand at my neck the night before the attack, and the different weight of his hand on my jaw when he had checked for injury afterward. Two touches. Two meanings. I was not sure he had fully separated them yet. "You will not be left alone with the fear of the corridor," he said. The words came out control
The Alpha King's Last Breeder Chapter 24: The Physician's Report
The headache arrived properly once the adrenaline burned off. I sat on the edge of the bed with my back against the wall and my injured shoulder held careful and still. Every shift of weight sent a dull pulse up into the base of my skull where the stone had caught me. The physician had cleaned the split skin and told me to stay awake until full light. I stayed awake because sleep felt like a risk I could not afford in a room that had already failed once. Outside the door the lockdown continued. Boots. Low voices. The heavier scrape of braced shutters being checked again from the courtyard side. The observation fittings watched a woman who had thrown a jug and fought for half a step and still only survived because Oliver cleared the doorway in time. My arm ached deep in the joint. I tested the range carefully and stopped when the pain sharpened. Not broken. Not useless. Enough to remind me that the next attempt would not need a second chance if it found me slower. The lock tu
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"This remains a requirement," he said. "Not a claim. Not a comfort. If you are frightened of the corridor, use it to remember why you accepted the oath." he added. "I remember." I replied. He walked me backward until the edge of the bed hit my legs and pushed me down. I landed on my elbows. He followed, one knee between mine, hand still at my neck as he leaned over me. The weight of his palm kept my head where he wanted it. His other hand dragged down my stomach and between my thighs, two fingers sliding through the wetness that had gathered despite everything I felt about him and the room and the threat. He worked those fingers into me without gentleness, stretching, watching my face for the flinch and the unwanted response. When he curled them I could not stop the sound that left my throat. He did it again, harder, until my hips tried to move and his hand at my neck pressed me flat. "Stay still." I tried. His fingers kept moving. The pressure built fast and ugly, a clima
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I burned the note before first light. Four words on cheap paper. *Stop digging or disappear.* I held it in the lamp flame until only ash remained, washed the black dust from my fingers, and sat on the edge of the bed listening to the corridor. Whoever had slid it under the door knew the lock, the guard rotation, and the exact floor I occupied. That was not a warning from a distance. That was access. The investigator arrived hard and early. Two guards. No medical staff. He stood inside the door and looked at me like I had become a larger liability than the contract had budgeted for. "A threat was delivered inside a secured wing," he said. "Corridor watch reports a gap of less than a minute. No face. No name. You will be moved closer to the central post. Door watch doubles. You open that door for authorized medical staff, the King, or me. Nothing else. If another message arrives, you do not touch it." They moved me before midday. Smaller room. Narrower window. Heavier door. Th
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