Page 153 of Citius

I hated this. The entire situation. Having to be detached and professional all the fucking time. Hurting Alijah—even though I’d tried to make it perfectly clear why we couldn’t get any closer.

Joaquin looked at the approaching alphas. Understanding hardened the lines of his face, muscles taut, keeping his dominance on a tight leash. He placed a protective hand on Alijah’s shoulder, just above his bond mark.

“Come on, babe. Let’s go.”

“But—”

Joaquin’s grip tightened, sending a warning pulse through their bond that made Alijah flinch. His panicked eyes darted over my shoulder, alarm turning into a scowl as they landed on Garvey.

“See,” one of Garvey’s minions snickered, pressing the button for a sports drink. “She’s walking around, being a tease, but you’re the one who got in trouble.”

Anger contorted Alijah’s face. He opened his mouth, intending todefend me, but Joaquin and I acted first.

“Leave,” I hissed. The last thing I wanted was for the Garvey squad to start targeting Alijah.

Joaquin pulled his mate to safety—away from me—but not before leaning down to whisper, “You look like shit, doc.”

I stood frozen, perfectly neutral, in complete control. Breathing in and out at regular intervals. Heart beating. Nerves firing. Internally screaming. Totally fine.

“Wonder if they’ve gotten a dose of her bedside manner,” one of Garvey’s minions said with a crass laugh.

“Just hope it’s an improvement over her medical skills,” Garvey sniggered. “Fucked Hartsen’s hand right up.”

The other minion tore into a bag of chips, yapping with his mouth full. “Yeah—but at least she’s got nice tits.”

With hands that felt detached from my body, I swiped my credit card without so much as a single tremor and purchased a protein bar. Folding my knees, I dropped down to collect it—purposefully denying Garvey and his crew a good look at my ass.

I wasn’t here for their amusement or consumption.

“Nah, not hot enough to claim her,” Garvey said. “Besides, something’s wrong with her brain.”

And I most definitely wasn’t here to be discriminated against.

Turning, I removed my glasses—and unleashed my omega, in all her venomous glory, a Gorgon with an eternal grudge, who reduced three full-grown alphas to stone.

Garvey’s lips pulled back, baring his teeth. One minion choked on his chips as if the air had turned rancid, while the other clutched the vending machine for support, staring at me with wide, glassy eyes. Their reactions puzzled me, but I refused to waver.

“Yes, suffering a TBI impacted my life in all sorts of ways,” I said slowly, wiping my glasses on the hem of my shirt. “And yet, your cognitive abilities are the ones that are so impaired you think it’s acceptable to mock my disability and sexually harass an omega in public—with a witness.”

I nodded toward the breakroom, where Joaquin leaned against the doorway. His posture was casual, but his feral sneer promised retribution—as did the phone in his hand, recording every second of the encounter.

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy, sweetie.” Garvey held his hands up in a misguided attempt to placate me. As if my reaction was somehow unwarranted. “It was just a jo—”

“No, it wasn’t a joke,” I cut in sharply, sliding my glasses back into place. “It was strike one.”

I gave them each a pointed glare in turn.

“I am not here for you. I do not want to talk to you. And unless one of your players requires my services as a physician, do not approach me. Understood?”

They nodded, giving Joaquin a wide berth as they retreated down the hall, back toward their offices.

Ignoring Joaquin’s probing gaze, unusually heated and tinged with predatory intent, I returned to the medical center. Despite my outward calm, I was so drained and lightheaded that I could barely walk straight. My internal monologue contained nothing but expletives.

Before I could take a single bite of the protein bar, a thunderous Dr. McEwen charged through the door.

Had Garvey complained about what I said?

“Van Daal, Parsha—conference room,” he ordered, then marched off.

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