Page 27 of In Their Arms

I step closer when he gestures for me to, the doctor helping me up onto the metal slab now covered by a small blanket. The metal beneath still shocks the back of my legs, a hiss falling from my lips as the Alpha continues to flit around the small space, preparing, setting up, making sure everything is perfect. He’s setting out tools and small vials of liquid that look more like something out of a back-alley apothecary than a medical kit. The labels are handwritten, the liquid inside some of them a dark, almost iridescent color. I have no idea what any of it is.

The doctor glances at me, catching my wide-eyed stare, and huffs out a small chuckle. “Relax,” he says, tone far too casual for what we’re about to do. “I haven’t killed anyone yet.”

I don’t laugh.

His lips twitch like he expected that reaction, but his hands don’t stop moving. He arranges everything in neat little rows, wipes down a scalpel, then pulls up a stool and sits across from me. “Removing a bite is more luck than it is science,” he starts. “There’s the physical aspect of it—an Alpha’s claim is rooted in the breaking of skin, in the physical wound that seals their bond. But that’s not what makes it permanent. A real bond, a full one, fuses more than just flesh.”

That’s probably the only part that I actually picked up in biology class. “Like emotions.”

He nods. “Emotions. Thoughts. Inhibitions. Over time, the bond becomes more than just a physical tether—it intertwines with your instincts, your subconscious. It’s why it’s such an intimate thing.” He pauses, watching my reaction. “Why it’s not meant to be forced.”

Hudson had never cared about that.

The doctor exhales, tapping his fingers against the edge of the tray beside him. “Removing the bite will give you the solace you want. You’ll be free of him. You won’t feel his pull anymore, won’t wake up choking on his scent, won’t feel him in the back of your mind.”

A sharp wave of relief crashes through me, so sudden, I almost sag forward. But before I can let that feeling settle, the doctor keeps talking.

“There’s a cost, though. The tether will be severed, but the tendrils that once connected you to him will still be there. Just… broken. With nowhere to attach to.”

My breath stutters. “So, I’ll always want him?”

“No. Not him. But you’ll always be searching for something to replace it. Biologically, your body will always recognize that something is missing. Your other bonds will help, but that instinct will always be there. It’s why this procedure isn’t taken lightly. It’s why the courts only order it under the most extreme circumstances.”

I sit there, taking it in, feeling the weight of what he’s saying settle into my bones. I’d spent so much time thinking about how badly I needed Hudson gone, how much I wanted to be free. I hadn’t thought about what it would feel like after. The space he leaves behind. The part of me that will never fully heal. Wilson touched on it but now, there’s no going back if I do this.

“Still sure you want to do this?” The doctor catches my nod, “Alright then. Shirt off so we can get this bite removed and get you on your way.”

I blow out a heavy breath, forcing my hands to steady as I nod. My fingers shake as I reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head, the cold air hitting my bare skin and sending a shiver down my spine.

“When you wake up, you’ll be in a hospital.” He picks up a syringe, checking the liquid inside before setting it back down. “They’ll ask you where you were, what happened, how you ended up there. You don’t answer them.”

I nod again, my pulse hammering in my throat.

“Because even if you did, we both know you can’t see my real face which means you don’t have much to go on. And if you ever tried to come back, I wouldn’t be here.”

A chill creeps down my spine. He says it like a fact, like I should have already known. And maybe I did. Maybe I already understood that a place like this, a procedure like this, doesn’t leave a trail. The hospital will take care of me. But they’ll also never stop asking questions.

“I won’t say anything,” I promise. And then I remember something Wilson said. “Wait—Isn’t there something you’ll require of me?” My fingers flex against my thighs, my nerves making it impossible to sit still. “The guy who gave me your number said—” It still feels awful that I can’t feel my mates, their emotions, let them know I’m okay—well, as okay as I can be.

“That’s part of the ruse, little Omega.” He leans against the table, folding his hands beneath his chin. “I want to make sure that the ones walking through my door have no other choice. That they’re ready to give up everything. I won’t do an operation just because they’re selfish,” he says. “Or because they want something or because they made a mistake and want to start over. I need them to have nothing left. I don’t need anything from you,” he finishes, voice softer now. “Just that you survive this. And that you’re able to enjoy the full life ahead of you.”

The doctor watches me for a moment longer, then sighs. “Now, I’m going to ask one last time, little Omega. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak at first. Then, finally, quietly, desperately, I whisper, “Please.”

“Good,” he murmurs, gesturing toward the table. “Lay back for me.”

I hesitate for only a second before I obey, my body sinking against the cold metal, the blanket doing nothing to soothe my nerves. My hands fall to my sides as I try to focus on my breathing but I have no idea if I’ll wake up after this, some part of me saying that it would be a merciful way to go instead of ending back up in Hudson’s arms.

The doctor picks up the syringe, tilting it slightly, watching the liquid settle inside. “I’m going to knock you out. And when you wake up, you won’t be able to feel that Alpha any longer.”

As the needle pierces my skin, the world starts to blur, and the last bit of control I have slips from my grasp, I pray that he’s right.

16

Grayson

Two days. Two tense as fuck days of waiting, pacing, fighting the urge to do something reckless while Hearthstone jerks us around, dodging calls, refusing to give us a single fucking answer. Two days of red tape, of lawyers tossing legal jargon at us like it means a goddamn thing when Luca is missing and we don’t know if he’s safe. Two days of Maceo working every angle he can find, of Luther burning with rage through the bond, of Blake falling apart right in front of me.

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