CHAPTER 6

"Hold still. If you twitch, I’ll nick the femoral artery and you’ll bleed out on my boots."

Joshua leaned over the sentry, the sterile LED overheads reflecting in his safety goggles. The wolf, a massive brute named Kael, gripped the edges of the metal exam table until the steel groaned and buckled under his claws. A jagged shard of silver-tipped rebar was buried four inches into his thigh. The wound hissed, the flesh around it bubbling and black.

"Doc, it stings like a bitch," Kael wheezed, sweat matting his hairline.

Joshua didn't answer. He didn't waste breath on comfort. He centered himself. He reached deep into the place where his wolf used to howl and pulled at the warmth buried in his marrow. His palms began to glow. It wasn't a flare; it was a soft, steady pulse of pale gold light that seeped through his latex gloves.

The sentry’s breathing hitched. The blackened skin around the silver shivered. As Joshua’s fingers brushed the wound, the metal shard slid out as if the flesh were vomiting it up. The light swarmed the puncture, knitting muscle and sealing capillaries in seconds.

"What the hell?" Kael sat up, staring at his leg. The skin was pink and new. Only a faint white line remained. "I’ve never seen a healer do that. Not even the High Elders."

Joshua stripped his gloves, the snap of rubber echoing in the quiet room. "Go back to your post. And stay off the leg for an hour."

By noon, the whispering started. It rippled through the training grounds and the kitchen, a hum of gossip that traveled faster than a hunt. The human doctor. He’s got the touch. The Light.

Joshua kept his head down, moving through the pack hospital with a predatory focus. Every time he turned a corner, a wolf would pause, nostrils flaring, eyes wide with a mix of awe and suspicion. He was no longer just a contractor. He was a miracle worker.

"Oh, look at you. The man of the hour."

Bianca stood in the doorway of the supply closet, a tray of surgical prep solutions in her hands. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. Her scent was sharp—sour like curdled milk and heavy with the musk of a threatened female.

"I’m busy, Bianca. Move." Joshua reached for a bottle of saline on the top shelf.

"The pack is talking, Doctor," Bianca stepped closer, her heels clicking aggressively on the tile. "They say you have a gift. But gifts are dangerous things. People start asking where they come from."

"Maybe they should ask why your pack healers are so incompetent that a 'human' has to do their jobs."

Bianca’s face contorted. She shifted the tray, her fingers tightening around a glass beaker filled with a murky, yellowish liquid. Wolf-bane concentrate. In its refined form, it wouldn't just burn a wolf; it would melt human skin like wax, scarring the nerves permanently.

"Oops," she chirped.

She tripped, her body tilting forward with choreographed precision. The beaker tipped, the caustic fluid arching through the air toward Joshua’s surgical hands.

Joshua didn't jump back. He didn't yell.

He moved with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a human. His hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around Bianca’s wrist like a vice. He caught her mid-fall, the force of his grip stopping her momentum so violently her teeth clicked together. The beaker stayed upright, the wolf-bane sloshing but staying inside the glass.

Bianca gasped, her face draining of color. She struggled, but Joshua’s hand was an iron shackle. There was a weight to his presence in that moment—a heavy, crushing authority that made the air in the small room turn frigid.

"You’re clumsy, Bianca," Joshua said. His voice was a low, vibrating rasp.

He pulled her toward him until their noses almost touched. He could see the frantic pulse in her neck. He could smell the terror leaking out of her pores.

"What... what are you?" she whispered, her eyes darting to his hand. "No human is that fast."

Joshua leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His breath was cold.

"I’ve survived rogue claws, rejection, and a fall that would have shattered a mountain," he whispered. The words were like frozen needles. "I’ve survived much worse than a pathetic little wolf like you. If you ever try to touch my hands again, I won't just catch you. I’ll unmake you."

He let go. Bianca stumbled back, hitting the shelves. The beaker shattered on the floor between them, the wolf-bane eating into the linoleum with a sickening hiss.

Joshua stepped over the mess, his expression returning to a mask of clinical boredom. He didn't look back as he walked out of the room.

Bianca stayed slumped against the wall, her wrist already beginning to bruise in the shape of five long, powerful fingers. She watched him go, her breath coming in ragged, terrified gulps.

"Richard," she panted, her voice trembling. "Richard, something is wrong with him."