The Surgeon Leslie Wolfe Novels & Stories

They were laughing about a new project that everyone was fighting for, when the doctor interrupted them. “Excuse me, are you here for Miss Leslie?” the doctor asked. “Yes,” they both said standing up. “Are you the father?” the doctor asked. “Yes and I'm her sister,” Jess said quickly before William could react. “Come this way,” the doctor said. “Is there any problem?” Jess asked anxiously.

Zoe continued loudly, her voice rising with increasingly hollow confidence, "could cost you absolutely everything. Your career. Your life here." Dr. Frost inhaled slowly and deeply, visibly gathering himself together, then spoke again with deliberate precision, his tone measured but carrying an edge sharp enough to cut through steel. "Dr. Wesley is not only the president of our hospital," he said clearly, enunciating each word so there could be no misunderstanding whatsoever, "but also a leading oncologist who returned from London specifically to practice here, leaving his career in business behind. His reputation is international." Petra's breath hitched audibly at the words. She turned qui

“I’m saying you don’t need a mark on your neck for them to know what you are.” She stared out over the field: the organized chaos, the lines of wounded, the way even now, wolves glanced her way before making decisions that weren’t strictly medical. A patrol Gamma caught her eye from thirty yards away, then dropped his gaze and redirected his team toward the supply crates without a word from her. “I’m a surgeon.” “You’re that. You’re also the one they all looked to when things went bad. Including me.” She didn’t answer that. Somewhere behind them, an Elder started, “Dr. Hale—”

I wanted to see if the fierce, fearless surgeon from the clinic would disappear when she was cornered in nothing but silk. I stopped just two feet away from her. The clean, sweet scent of her soap clashed violently with the smell of whiskey and rain clinging to my clothes. "Marco told me what you did," I said, leaning down slightly, capturing her gaze. "He said you threatened to let him bleed to death if he didn't submit to your table." "He was contaminating my sterile field," she whispered, her voice cracking, but her eyes held that same stubborn, beautiful defiance. "I am the authority in that clinic. I don't care who he is to you."