Page 26 of In Their Arms

I stumble inside, the place absent of the chemical smells from the center. No harsh antiseptic, no lingering sting of alcohol wipes or disinfectant. A man sits across from me, leaning back in a chair with one leg crossed over the other. His face is partially obscured by a mask, one of those surgical ones, but his eyes are sharp, scanning me slowly, like he’s assessing damage rather than looking at a person.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing toward a chair near the center of the room. His voice is rough, like he’s smoked a pack a day for decades, but there’s something unnervingly steady about him.

I shake my head, still standing near the door, sweat clinging to my skin, my shirt damp against my back. “I’d rather stand.”

“That’s fine.”

I swallow hard, glancing toward the door again, my body still coiled too tight, every instinct telling me to be ready to run. What if someone followed me? What if I didn’t run fast enough?

The man sighs, shaking his head slightly before his entire demeanor shifts, the sharpness in his eyes softening. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice quieter this time. “Would you like some water?”

I blink at him, my mind short-circuiting for a moment, caught between fear and the ridiculousness of the question. “I just want to get this over with.”

“Let me rephrase that. I’m going to get you some water and then you can answer a few questions for me.” He pushes out of the seat and disappears down the hall into the first room before reappearing with a small glass. Every one of my instincts is telling me not to accept it, that this could be a trap to send me back to the center.

A test of sorts to see if I would run given the chance but Wilson was so genuine and this is my last chance. I timidly accept the glass and sip at it, the cold soothing my throat on the way down. Relaxing just slightly, I tighten my hold on the cup and meet the man’s dark eyes. “You’re a lot different than I expected.”

He huffs out something close to a laugh, his gaze flicking toward the door before returning to me as he takes a seat again. “There are certain appearances I have to keep, ones that require the utmost secrecy.” His fingers tap lazily against the arm of his chair. “But that also comes with ensuring that the people who come to me can handle the consequences of what comes after.”

I frown, trying to process his words. “Is that why you were so mean on the phone?”

He nods. “You wouldn’t believe how many people call thinking they want this, only to back out the second they realize it’s not a simple fix. There’s pain, loss, permanent damage. Some think it’s a clean slate, a way to erase the past, but it’s not.” His eyes narrow slightly, studying me. “It’s survival.”

I exhale, a shaky breath leaving my lips. I already know all of this. Wilson told me. But hearing it now, in this dimly lit apartment, in a space that doesn’t smell like a clinic, doesn’t feel like a real medical center, it feels too real. I open my mouth about to offer my name when the glare he shoots me tells me otherwise.

“No names. No personal information. I don’t want to know anything beyond a yes or no when I ask a question.” He stands, motioning for me to follow. “If you can’t handle that, you’re in the wrong place.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know what I wanted.”

I follow him, the hallway stretching farther than it should for a one-bedroom unit. The walls are unmarked, no photos, no signs of life beyond the dull glow of overhead lights. The silence wraps around me, pressing against my chest as we take a sharp turn, the space narrowing before opening into something completely different.

The room is filled with machines, staunch medical equipment lined against the walls. It doesn’t smell like chemicals in here either, but the clinic aspect is definitely present. I stop near the entrance as my gaze sweeps over the setup. There’s an operating table in the center, a tray of instruments laid out beside it, prepared for whatever comes next.

The man moves toward the tray, adjusting something before turning to face me fully. “I apologize for the rudeness on the phone, however, that voice scares off a lot of people.” He crosses his arms, his mask making it impossible to read his full expression. “People who would crumble the moment they realize how much this is going to take out of them.”

I stay silent, gripping the cup in my hand, the water inside barely touched.

His gaze drops to the cup before lifting back to mine. “Finish your water.”

His Alpha bark slips through as I stare at him for a second longer before tipping the cup back and forcing it down. Then I set it on a nearby table, for some reason needing to rid myself of the glass. “Should I really be drinking before a surgery?” Probably a question I should have asked before I finished the water.

The doctor lets out a rough laugh, like he doesn’t do it often. He adjusts something on the tray, every movement precise and calculated. “This is a little different than what you’re thinking of when you hear ‘surgery.’ You’ll be fine.” He glances at me, tilting his head slightly. “However, there won’t be a surgery at all if your answers aren’t satisfactory.”

I grip the edge of my shirt, twisting the fabric between my fingers, my pulse ticking faster. “What do you need to know?”

He turns, leaning against the table, his arms folding over his chest. “First question. Are you pregnant?”

I snort before I can stop myself, shaking my head. “No.” He lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve had the birth control shot,” I clarify, lifting my arm and rubbing at the faint mark where the injection went in weeks ago. “I’m not pregnant.”

The doctor nods like he expected that answer, shifting slightly before moving on to the next question. “Which bite are we taking care of?”

I swallow, my fingers brushing over my neck before I turn slightly, tilting my head to expose the ruined scar tissue that Hudson left behind.

The doctor studies it for a moment. “Alright.” He straightens, adjusting the sleeve of his lab coat before letting his hands drop to his sides. “One last question. Why would you risk everything for a procedure that could land you in jail or kill you?”

I exhale, my chest caving in, my throat burning as a desperate sob rips through me. I press a hand to my face, trying to contain it, trying to keep from falling apart completely. “Because I need to protect my family,” I whisper, voice shaking. “And this man seeks to ruin it.”

The silence that follows threatens to undo and for a moment, I think I’ve given the wrong answer. He just tilts his head again and then shrugs. “Sounds good to me.” I can’t seem to gauge what kind of Alpha he is, just that he is one. I can’t even determine his scent, just that it’s clean.

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