Chapter 2
Chapter Two
QUINN
The very nature of being a doctor in the ER is how I escape the reality of not only what happened earlier, but also the most recent wave of Victor’s taunting. A call goes out on the PA for a doctor to assist, and I jump at the chance, leaving without looking at the Alpha again.
You’d think after the years that have passed, I’d be able to forget Victor better.
Sadly, I remember him so vividly, his voice is still crystal clear, like we only spoke yesterday.
I hate that the trauma he left behind impacts me so much still, but in a perverse way, I also use those same memories as a source of inspiration.
Much the same way he does. Victor is a professional player, constantly trying to get me to concede. Once a year or so, he sends someone from his staff into my favorite coffee shop when I’m there. They’ve even showed up here, at the clinic, his reminder that he’s watching me.
He also occasionally sends me links to articles, both good and bad, that further embellish his accomplishments or raise questions about his integrity.
I wish there were more of the latter, but they are far and few between because he keeps doing “so much for international relations.” Getting everything set up for our inevitable showdown keeps a pep in my step and motivates me to be better.
Spending hours with different patients, filling my head with tasks, illnesses to solve, and lives to save doesn’t alter the impact of what happened with the patient who bit me.
I catch myself touching the wrappings so many times during my shift.
I want to unwrap the bandage to look at his bite, but I’ve been too busy.
Well, that’s the lie—the truth is a lot more complicated, and I definitely want to be at home when I start to unpack those emotions.
For obvious reasons, he’s the last patient on my list to check before I clock off.
Before I go near his bed, I take a long, steadying exhale to prepare myself. Opening the privacy curtain, it takes me a second to realize he’s not in it. I feel strangely bereft.
The nurse walks in as I’m standing there, staring at his empty bed. “He was here when I started my rounds about an hour ago.”
I shrug it off, hoping she doesn’t notice the sudden sheen in my eyes as I walk past his empty bed to read his chart. “If he decided to split, there’s not much we can do.”
I keep my eyes on the notes made by everyone checking on him, blinking past the sting of his disappearance. He had a textbook recovery, even getting written up for being “assertively friendly”—whatever that means.
It’s no surprise to find his personal details are still blank.
And I’m not really in any place to pass judgment for him doing so.
Or bitch about him leaving without introducing himself.
I mean, I wasn’t going to acknowledge he bit me either, so there is that.
The growing disappointment in my stomach suggests otherwise, but I shut that down pretty quick.
His disappearance saves me a ton of angst and effort. I’m not after a pack. And no Alpha’s bite is going to change the direction of my life.
I have what I need. Speak of the devil, and my phone lights up with Kade’s name.
“I’m out of here for a few days. Good luck,” I mumble to the nurse, waving over my shoulder as I leave.
The rest of the clinic is winding down after the earlier rush.
I stop and chat with a couple of the other people on my way through, and sadly, news of my bite is what everyone wants to chat about.
A couple of them want to take a look, and if I was in their shoes, I’d probably ask the same, but I manage to artfully dodge their requests.
The same, however, cannot be said for Dr. Billings. He’s the clinic director, and my long-standing, sometimes long-suffering, mentor. On any other given day, I’d be enthusiastically running over my day with him, but today I’d prefer to leave without even saying goodbye.
I try to avoid him, and I make it to the staff room to grab my bag, but he catches me. “Quinn, not so fast. Let me see the bite while you give me a rundown on how it happened.”
Dr. Billings has the disposition of a bullet train. He’s as fast as one too, and before I can blink, he’s railroading me into an empty examination area.
As soon as I’m sitting on the bed, he’s unwrapping the bandage and pulling down the large overhead light. Dr. Billings is quiet as he does his assessment, and I know he’s biding his time, waiting for me to start the difficult conversation.
My injury, and how it happened, are two separate issues. Both will need resolving, here at work, but also, I’ll need to work through a whole lot of BS in the privacy of my own home.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I start my rundown, or I’ll be here all night.
“The patient was going into severe anaphylactic shock, likely from the muscle relaxant he was administered. His airways were compromised. When we went to intervene, we had equipment missing. The patient deteriorated rapidly. I made a judgment call. I don’t believe my sticking my fingers down his throat was wrong.
I would absolutely eviscerate any of my staff if they did what I did, but I also couldn’t let our patient die because of our incompetence.
My responsibility is to keep him alive, and it’s also my responsibility that things went pear-shaped.
I’ll appear before the disciplinary board to explain myself, if need be. ”
Dr. Billings is waiting for me to look at him.
The second I do, he starts talking. “I don’t believe that will be necessary, Quinn.
Every person I have spoken to has recounted the same version of events.
At the end of the day, he was lucky you were in the room.
” He turns my hand to look at the underside, where the rest of the Alpha’s bite is.
“The questions remain—does what happened transpire as an error in our operating system, or are there other things at play?” He talks in his usual stoic calmness.
I’ve worked with him long enough to recognize his concern.
“You know I don’t put my body in the way of patients.
Especially Alphas. I’ve taken antibiotics.
If anything changes regarding the wound, you will be the first to know.
And Ian did a great job making sure I was okay.
He’s come a long way since he first arrived.
” I deflect as best I can, and Dr. Billings lets me.
He cleans my hand again before applying a thick layer of antibacterial gel. Then he wraps it in a flexible gauze. Once done, he lets my hand go and slides back a bit on his stool to give me some space, reading my discomfort better than I do. Again, he waits until I’m looking at him.
“Infection is my second consideration, Quinn. An Alpha’s bite on an unbonded Omega is highly concerning.”
I shake my head. “I’m not in heat. I’m not anywhere near that part of my cycle.”
He nods, agreeing. “It’s not about that, Quinn, is it? Compatibility, and/or intention, is all it needs sometimes.”
“He was wavering in and out of consciousness,” I argue. “I doubt he looked at me and thought, ‘Oh look, it’s an Omega.’ I mean, he hardly had his eyes open.”
Dr. Billings finishes cleaning up. “We both know the subconscious mind is often the guiding force in how a person acts. Perhaps he’s desperate for a pack or his pack is desperate for an Omega. That intent is all it would take to bind you to him forever.”
While his concern isn’t coming from a bad place at all, my defensive mechanism means I come out swinging.
“I’m not about to have my path in life altered because of biology,” I cut back sharply. I stand up, frustrated. Not at Dr. Billings but at basic biology. “We change people’s lives all the time with our intention. I’m applying those same principles here.”
He laughs. “I’d be worried if you weren’t adamant that you could manipulate mother nature as a fix. Keep an eye on the bite. If the scar silvers, you’ve got more issues than getting some well-deserved rest.”
“It won’t silver,” I assure him. Or maybe I’m only trying to assure myself. “It wasn’t a claiming bite.”
He pushes the lamp up, rolling over to the bin to throw the gauze wrappings out. “Time will tell. I’ll check it when you are back. And don’t answer any phone calls from the clinic on your time off. We might be short-staffed, but I am not changing our policy of pulling people in on their days off.”
I quickly assure him I most definitely will not be answering any calls.
The only people who know that number are the people I work with.
And Kade. You could say our relationship is kind of “work related,” since he always helps deal with my stress.
I prefer saying he’s a Beta with benefits.
It’s a heck of a lot easier than dealing with the truth about Kade.
By the time I’ve showered, had a complete meltdown and fixed myself back up again, then dressed in civilian clothes, I’m feeling as good as you’d expect. And I am back to ignoring the fact I’m wearing the mark of some random Alpha on me. Well, trying to.
Another wave of emotion hits when I’m in the cab on the way to dinner.
I’m so disappointed in myself, that I ended up in that situation and that I was powerless to stop it from happening.
One thought snowballs into the next, and before we’ve even driven a mile, I’m squeezing my eyes shut, resting my head back.
I visualize calmness, so vast and encompassing, I make sure my psyche has no choice but to be forced into a lull.
An artificial one. At the same time, this is one of those cases where you have to fake it till you make it.
I stay as still and as quiet as I can, focusing on the whiteout my mind has carved for the rest of the drive, not entertaining anything but Zen.