The Alpha's Greatest Regret のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

BENJAMIN'S POVThe report had been on my desk four days before I noticed it.Callum had stopped knocking sometime in October. He'd slide files under the door — council summaries, schedules, items that had once needed a signature by end of day — and I'd find them in the morning spread across the threshold and move them to the desk. The pile had grown deep enough that I'd started leaving newer ones on the floor beside it.I'd lost weight. My belt had run out of holes and I'd been wearing it pulled past the last eyelet for three weeks, the leather biting into its own stitching. Food Callum brought — sandwiches, soup in sealed containers — I threw away without opening. Not every time. Sometimes I'd unwrap something and find it still on the corner of my desk at midnight, dried out, and throw it away then.There was a week in November when I couldn't have told you what month it was. The trees told me — the color of them, the way the afternoon light hit them.The pack had learned to move on

BENJAMIN’S POVThe letter came two weeks later.It came through formal inter-pack channels, stamped with the seals of the Northern Medical Coalition. Callum brought it to my office himself, his expression carefully neutral in the way that told me the contents were significant before I’d opened the envelope.“This came for you,” he said. “From the north.”The Shadow Moon seal sat prominent in the corner — the same seal stamped on the denial letter for Patient 47-2. I stared at it a moment too long before opening the envelope.It was a formal acceptance. A medical team specializing in Velmir’s Syndrome would be conducting a pediatric screening program in Blue Moon territory. Part of an inter-pack initiative to improve early detection rates. The team would deploy in two months and remain for the duration of the screening. All pack resources were to be made available upon request.The team name was listed at the bottom.The Watson Velmir’s Research Initiative.I read it twice. Set the let

ALICE’S POVThe screening clinic filled up fast.I worked through the first hour without lifting my head much — blood draws, vitals, one result that needed more careful explanation than most. The rhythm was steady. After three years building this program I knew how to run it, and I ran it without thinking about anything except the patient in front of me.Some of the parents recognized me. I could tell by the slight pause before they answered intake questions, the second look at my name tag, the careful expression of someone deciding not to ask.I had been their Luna once — present at functions, filling a role, invisible in any way that mattered. Four years of that, and then I was gone. Whatever they had built to make sense of it, none of them brought it to my face.I was glad for that. I kept working.By mid afternoon we had caught two early markers. Children who would need follow-up, families who now knew what they were dealing with before there was less time to deal with it.I wrote

ALICE’S POVI was at the nursing station when the girl came in first.The morning had been quiet. I had noticed that, without pushing past it.She was a few steps ahead of her mother, chin down, hands in her jacket pockets, shoulders drawn in. I noticed her height before I knew whose she was — tall for her age, dark-eyed, her gaze moving across the waiting area without settling on anything. I didn't know who she belonged to until I looked past her and saw Lisa Scott coming through behind her.Lisa crossed the room already looking at me. Her hair was up, her dress dark and well-fitted, and her expression held the pleasantness she kept near the surface for situations like this."Dr. Watson." She smiled. "How unexpected.""Mrs. Scott." I looked at Lily. "Is she here for the screening?""Lily is perfectly healthy." Lisa's voice was pleasant. It always was when she wanted something to land without leaving a mark. "We're just curious. The whole pack is talking about your program."I looked

BENJAMINE'S POVThe files on my desk had an order. Four years of running this pack and I could put my hand on anything in the dark. That morning I spent twenty minutes looking for a report I had filed myself, and found it under my left hand the moment Lisa walked in without knocking.She hadn't knocked in two years. She'd given up the habit around the time she started treating gaps in my schedule like standing invitations. I heard the door and kept my eyes on the desk for a moment before I looked up.“Benjamin. We need to talk.” She said.“I’m busy.”“It’s about her.”I looked up. Lisa’s expression was composed, but her eyes were sharp. She’d been waiting for this conversation, I could see it in the way she’d settled into the chair, the way her hands were folded in her lap with the particular stillness of someone who had rehearsed.“The screening program is running smoothly,” I said. “If you have concerns about the medical team, direct them to Dr. Marlow.”“My concerns aren’t about th