Page 5 of Chosen Beta

I had to say yes, and there was more than one reason for that.

She needed me, for my skills and because she’s ready to meet her mates.

She’s strong. She had to be to take this academy on and start immediately making changes for the better. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t also lonely.

Surrounded by people, but none of them are close to her.

It’s like seeing a reflection of who I was before I met my pack.

And my pack don’t even know she exists.

There’s a good reason I’ve been avoiding that conversation, but it is inevitable.

If she’s meant for me, she’s meant for them, too.

I clear those thoughts from my head as I get to the end of the corridor and see there’s a nurse waiting outside of room nine. Cora Levinson. The five foot nothing, typically cheerful brunette nurse is unusually sombre. Hugging herself and rubbing her arms like she’s cold, her gaze is unfocused.

My work here isn’t done.

I’ve barely gotten started.

“What happened, Cora? How’s the patient? Are you okay?”

She blinks at the quick barrage of questions, but she looks more focused when she starts to process what I’ve asked.

“She woke up,” she starts, hesitating before blowing out a breath and going on. “I don’t know what triggered it, but she was seriously agitated. She pulled out her drip, and she just … Shelungedat me, tried to grab me. The look on her face … I didn’t know what she might try to do to me. I left quickly, got out and locked the door.”

She shivers. “I’m okay. It just frightened me. She did, I mean. I shouldn’t have left the trolley in the room. I know … I just …”

“It’s okay,” I assure her.

Our Jane Doe has been in a state of confusion since she got here. Severely malnourished, she’s been making slow progress toward a healthy diagnosis, while giving only yes or no answers with nods and shakes of her head and nothing more.

Nurse Levinson shouldn’t have left the trolley full of medications where an unpredictable patient could access it, but based on my assessment since she’s been here, Jane Doe isn’t a junkie looking for a hit. She’s not likely to overdose on pills, at least not on purpose.

“I’m going inside,” I tell my colleague. “You can grab your trolley and get back to your rounds once I call you in to the room to grab it. Just do an inventory first and let me know straight away if anything is missing.”

She nods slowly and moves back, allowing me to access the door.

Like the other rooms in this makeshift hospital ward, there’s a long glass panel that runs down the side where the handle is, giving a glimpse into a room that was likely originally designed to be an office.

The hospital bed is set up in the middle of the windowless space, with nothing more than a nightstand with a table lamp on top close by. I can see the sheets have been pulled back and the bed is clearly empty. The trolley has been abandoned a few feet away from the bed.

It would seem our Jane Doe is hiding.

I unlock the door and push it inward slowly, watching through the glass panel as it moves.

A sigh of relief escapes me when I confirm she’s not hiding behind the door.

There’s nothing worse than taking a jump-scare from a patient.

Stepping into the room, I glance back at Nurse Levinson.

“Listen out. I’ll call when you can come in and get the trolley.”

She nods, her eyes wide as she stares back at me.

The tension only tightens as I close the door on the nurse.

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