Chapter 21
DECLAN?
“What if Dr. W is just your ex-girlfriend Aria in disguise?”
The suggestion is so absurd I almost laugh.
“That’s ridiculous,” I say sharply. “Absolutely ridiculous.”
Celeste blinks up at me, her expression innocent. “Is it? I mean, Aria did study healing. She worked at the pack clinic. And no one’s ever seen Dr. W’s face—”
“Enough.” I cut her off, my patience snapping. “Dr. W is a legendary healer with years of experience and a reputation that spans territories. Aria was a rankless orphan who barely knew basic herbs. They’re nothing alike.”
“But—”
“I said enough, Celeste.” My voice comes out harder than I intend, and she flinches slightly. “Stop talking nonsense.”
She presses her lips together, her eyes flashing with something I can’t quite read. But she doesn’t argue.
Good.
Except the damage is already done. Now the idea is sitting in my head, unwanted and irritating, like a splinter I can’t dig out.
I look at Celeste standing beside me in the hallway, her perfect posture and calculated expressions, and something cold settles in my chest.
I need to end this. Soon.
If my parents weren’t dying, if they hadn’t made it so clear they wanted to see me properly bonded before they passed, I would have rejected her years ago. I would never have maintained this fake relationship with such a vicious woman for this long.
But they are dying. And they’re asking for so little—just the peace of knowing I’m settled, that the pack’s future is secure.
So I endure her. For now.
But the moment my parents recover—the moment Dr. W saves them—I’m done.
I turn to Celeste, making sure she’s looking at me. “Listen to me very carefully. I have no feelings for Aria. None. That part of my life is over. Do you understand?”
She nods slowly.
“So stop bringing her up,” I continue, my voice flat and final. “Stop mentioning her name. Stop making ridiculous comparisons. She’s irrelevant, and I don’t want to hear about her again.”
Celeste’s expression softens into something almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, Declan. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just worried—”
“I know what you were doing.”
She goes quiet.
Before either of us can say anything else, the clinic door opens.
Dr. W stands in the doorway, her masked face turning toward us. “You can come in now.”
ARIA
I step back from the doorway and return to my examination table, arranging my instruments while they enter.
Declan walks in first, his posture tense. Celeste follows a step behind, and I catch the way she immediately moves to his side, her hand brushing his arm.
I ignore it. Focus on the work.
“Please sit here,” I say to Celeste, gesturing toward the examination chair.
She settles into it gracefully, smoothing her dress over her knees. Then she smiles up at me—warm and friendly, like we’re old acquaintances catching up.
“So, Dr. W,” she says brightly. “How long have you been a healer? You must have started very young to be this skilled already.”
I pull on a fresh pair of gloves and pick up my stethoscope. “Please breathe normally.”
“Of course.” She takes a breath, still smiling. “It’s just so impressive, you know? I’ve heard so many stories about you. The mysterious Dr. W, traveling from pack to pack, curing impossible cases. It must be exhausting.”
I press the stethoscope to her chest and listen. Her heartbeat is steady. Strong.
“Do you travel alone?” Celeste continues. “Or do you have a partner? An assistant, maybe?”
“Breathe in,” I say.
She does, but she doesn’t stop talking. “I only ask because it seems like such a lonely life. Moving around constantly, never staying in one place. Don’t you ever wish you could settle down somewhere? Build a real home?”
I move the stethoscope to her back. “Breathe out.”
“Celeste.” Declan’s voice cuts through the room, sharp and warning. “Stop talking. Let her work.”
Celeste glances at him, her smile faltering slightly. “I’m just making conversation”
“You’re being intrusive,” he says flatly. “Be quiet.”
She presses her lips together and falls silent.
I continue the examination, checking her pulse, her reflexes, her temperature. Professional. Methodical. Exactly as I would with any patient.
But Celeste only stays quiet for maybe thirty seconds before she starts again.
“Where are you from originally, Dr. W?” she asks, her tone light and curious. “Your accent is interesting. I can’t quite place it.”
I don’t have an accent. She’s fishing.
“Do you have family?” she continues when I don’t answer. “Parents? Siblings?”
I press two fingers to her wrist, counting her pulse.
“What about friends? It must be hard to maintain relationships when you’re always moving—”
“Celeste,” Declan snaps again, louder this time. “I told you to stop.”
She gives him an apologetic look but doesn’t actually apologize. And two seconds later, she’s at it again.
“I’m just curious,” she says sweetly. “Dr. W is so talented and accomplished. I want to know more about her. Is that so wrong?”
I finish the physical examination and step back, pulling off my gloves. “I need a blood sample.”
Celeste extends her arm willingly, still smiling. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
I tie the tourniquet around her upper arm and prep the needle. As I draw the blood, she watches me with bright, curious eyes.
“You have very steady hands,” she observes. “Have you ever treated anyone famous? An Alpha, maybe? Or a Luna?”
I don’t answer. Just finish drawing the sample and press a cotton ball to the puncture site.
“Hold this,” I say.
She does, but her eyes never leave my face. “You’re very mysterious, Dr. W. I think that’s part of your appeal. Everyone wants to know who you really are.”
I cap the vial and set it aside, then turn to my notes. The examination is complete. I’ve gathered everything I need.
Now comes the part I’ve been dreading.
I look down at the report in my hands, scanning the results one more time to make sure I’m reading them correctly.
Then I look up at Declan.
“I need to speak with you privately about the diagnosis,” I say, keeping my voice professional and neutral. “Celeste, please step outside.”
Celeste’s smile falters. “What? Why?”
“Medical privacy,” I say simply. “I’ll discuss the details with Alpha Cross first, and then he can share whatever he feels is appropriate.”
“But I’m the patient—”
“And he’s your mate and the Alpha of this pack,” I interrupt. “This is standard procedure.”
Celeste looks at Declan, clearly expecting him to argue on her behalf.
But he just nods. “Wait outside, Celeste.”
Her expression tightens. “Declan—”
“Outside.”
She doesn’t move. Just sits there, her hands folded in her lap, her jaw set in quiet defiance.
Declan’s face darkens. I watch the anger building in his expression—the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes flash gold for just a second before he forces it back down.
I know this look. I’ve seen it before.
Six years ago, he looked at me like this. Right before he ordered the pack to hunt me down.
The memory surfaces sharp and clear. His face twisted with fury, his voice cold and commanding as he shouted for them to catch me. The way he stood there and watched me run, his expression hard and unforgiving.
I thought I’d forgotten what that felt like. Thought I’d buried it deep enough that it couldn’t hurt anymore.
But standing here, watching him glare at Celeste with that same barely controlled rage, I realize I haven’t forgotten anything.
I just learned to pretend I had.
Celeste shifts in her seat, and her expression changes. The defiance melts away, replaced by something softer. She smiles again—slow and deliberate, like she’s thought of something clever.
“One last question,” she says, her voice light and sweet. “Just one last question.”
Declan’s eyes narrow. “Celeste—”
She ignores him and looks directly at me. Her smile widens.
“Dr. W,” she says. “Do you have a boyfriend?”