The Clinic Novels & Stories

Jax turned off the ignition and dashed out of the car, opening the other side of the car where Alessandro was. He threw Alessandro over his shoulder and strode into the all-white duplex with a label at the front that was written "clinic." Her mind jerked with shock as she ran after Jax, who strode with urgency into the clinic. She didn’t know Alessandro had a clinic in his house. She didn't seem to notice it the first time she came. The Clinic was painted white, unlike the soft gray color of the towering mansion and the smaller duplex just beside it.

And yet, on this night … it had saved one. “Where is this clinic?” The woman’s small voice jarred me out of my thoughts, back to the road in front of me. I’d been driving on autopilot, wending my way through the city to the place I knew nobody would think to look. I turned into the underground parking lot of a condo building. “In the basement,” I said, because that’s where this particular safehouse’s medical clinic was located. “The hospital would have a damn kitten—and probably revoke my license—if they knew I was treating patients for free.”

The Italian trinity that is going to make sure we solidify our place in the underworld. Entering the clinic the waiting room is a decent size filled with chairs, two Tv’s hang on opposite sides of the room. To the left it’s more set up for kids with toys and games to entertain them. On the right set up for adults and teens with magazines, books, and other things that would perk an adult's interest. The check in window is a standard doctor’s office set up. Nico comes out from the door that I assume patients will either enter or exit from. “Welcome to the Angel Clinic.” Nico says as he greets me.

"Maybe longer. And you know it." I didn't argue because she was right. "It's complicated," I said finally. "Everything with you is complicated." She shook her head. "But for what it's worth, he seems like a good guy. Better than—" She stopped herself. Better than Arren. She didn't have to say it out loud. We walked the rest of the way in silence. The clinic was at the center of the settlement. It was smaller than the main hospital but clean and well-maintained. The doors slid open automatically when we approached and we stepped inside.

But enough. “I’m scared,” I admitted. “What if it is me?” “Then you will know,” Clara said simply. “And you will handle it. Because that is what you do.” A beat. “Call me the moment you’re done.” “Okay” I said then I hung up the phone. Ten minutes later I got to the clinic then I parked my car in the parking lot. The clinic was exactly what I had hoped for, quiet, clean, private. No reception crowded with familiar faces. No one would mention to someone that Noah Benson’s wife had been seen at a women’s health clinic on a Thursday morning.

I can’t keep the surprise from my voice. She nods. “One of the many advantages of having a young alpha who’s willing to listen and modernize. Ah, here we are. The clinic. One moment, I just need to check on something.” Tentatively, I step into the clinic. It’s a compact but well-equipped infirmary, more like a private urgent-care clinic than anything else. The shelves are lined with supplies and monitors hum quietly. The air smells faintly of antiseptic mixed with cedar. Cornelia is rifling through paperwork with a frown.

That afternoon, I went to Raven Street. Black SUVs lined the curb outside the new clinic, and DeLuca men stood at the entrance. The white sign read Voss Recovery Center in clean, gentle lettering. Compared with Clara's old emergency clinic in the Lower Ward, the place looked polished enough for politicians and made men with expensive secrets. Clara stood at the entrance in a pale gray suit, her blond hair pinned at the nape of her neck. Lucian was beside her. He straightened the name badge on her lapel with a practiced, natural ease. Clara looked up at him, and the dependence in her eyes was almost too obvious to be an accident.

"I told the school I was thinking of offering her a job after she finished her studies. So, they just said she was still a student but taking classes online. It's a different situation." He went on about the clinic. "As for the clinic, it's one used by people in the area who do not have good health insurance, or any insurance at all. It gives free check-ups for women. It was probably just that. My own wife goes to the doctor every year to get her 'girlie bits'—her words, not mine—checked out." That explanation made sense, but it didn't completely stop my worry. "Thank you," I said. I started to slide the photos back to him.

he said. "The filing is complete." "Everything we have is protected." "Even if they move against this house tonight—" "The evidence doesn't disappear." "Good," I said. "Sandra found twenty-three clinics." "Eighteen countries." He was quiet. "The Hale Clinic was one of them." He looked at the window. At the grounds. At the world beyond the estate walls where twenty-three clinics had been operating. "How many children?" he asked. "She doesn't have a number yet." He nodded slowly.