Chapter 3

Hali Alston POV:

Ten minutes later, the MPV pulled into the underground garage of the Emerald Bay Central Medical Institute. I followed Doyle up to the eighth-floor office reserved for specially appointed experts.

I placed my hand-carved wooden medicine case on the mahogany desk and slipped into a white lab coat embroidered with silver-thread insignias at the cuffs—the mark of a chief traditional Healer.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Doyle pushed open the door, his brow furrowed.

"Hali, we have an emergency. There's a top-tier Alpha in the west-wing VIP ward—Alpha Arjun Kane—whose inner wolf is on the verge of a rampage. He needs immediate meridian soothing."

I snapped the brass clasps on my medicine case shut and turned around with a nod. "Alright. My Silverwood bone needles and herbal extracts are ready."

In the leather lounge area by the window, Darrion sat with his short legs crossed, the blue glow of his tablet reflected in his deep slate-blue eyes.

Arden hopped off the sofa and trotted over to Doyle. Grabbing the hem of his white coat, she blinked up at him with her big eyes.

"Uncle Doyle, is my daddy really an anonymous Alpha donor numbered 007 from the human sperm bank?"

Doyle choked, his face turning red as he hurriedly looked away from her innocent gaze.

"Well... yes, Arden. Five years ago, it was a standard, compliant artificial insemination procedure."

Without lifting his head, Darrion's tiny fingers flew across his virtual keyboard.

"Voice tremor detected. Probability of a lie: eighty-five percent. Uncle Doyle, the public sperm bank has never stored pure-blood Alpha genes that match Arden's and my DNA."

Cold sweat beaded on Doyle's forehead. He cleared his throat and gestured toward the door.

"Hali, the patient's spiritual turbulence is critical. We need to go right now."

I walked over to the sofa and gave my twins a stern look.

"Darrion, look after your sister and wait for Mommy in this office. Don't wander into the hospital corridors."

Darrion nodded obediently, popping a strawberry lollipop into his mouth. A sly glint flashed in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Mommy. I'll stay right here and study quietly."

I picked up my leather needle roll and a vial of tranquilizing herbal essence, then followed Doyle into the corridor toward the private elevator.

As the steel doors slid shut, Doyle sighed heavily and lowered his voice.

"Hali, today's patient in the west wing has a terrifyingly high status in the pack, and his temper is notoriously brutal. Once you're inside, just administer the needles. Don't provoke his inner wolf."

"I'm a doctor, Senior Brother. I know the rules," I replied calmly.

My eyes briefly flicked toward the small Bluetooth monitor on my wristwatch, which was connected to the security camera inside my office.

On the tiny screen, I saw Darrion hop off the sofa the moment we left. He locked the office door from the inside, then plugged a data cable from his tablet directly into the medical institute's core intranet port in the wall.

Rows of green code cascaded down his screen as he munched on his candy, clearly searching the territory's encrypted servers for traces of his father. Arden cheered beside his chair.

I shook my head with a faint smile and switched off the watch display.

The elevator chimed and opened onto the heavily restricted west wing.

The corridor was freezing. We headed toward a restricted suite at the far end, where armed guards stood watch. As we passed an ordinary VIP ward with its door half open, a pungent smell made my nose wrinkle. Cheap synthetic perfume stung my nostrils, mixed with the musky stench of a low-ranking wolf in Heat.

A woman's high-pitched, breathy giggle came from inside.

The ward had none of the solemn quiet expected of a medical facility. In broad daylight, a man and a woman in revealing clothes were tangled together on the velvet sofa. The man's face was bloated and pale, dark purple veins spreading up the right side of his neck—the result of years of abusing black-market stimulants. His hand was brazenly shoved beneath the woman's short skirt.

The woman arched her back and moaned loudly, the tacky red gemstone pendant hanging from her chest bouncing with every movement.

The moment I recognized their faces, my pupils contracted. My heels stopped dead on the polished terrazzo floor.

The man was Acey Mcbride, my former fiancé who had broken off our engagement on the very day I was disowned five years ago.

The woman was Vivian Price—my former best friend, the one who had climbed into his bed behind my back.

Hearing our footsteps, Acey raised his head in annoyance. The moment his murky brown eyes met my ice-blue gaze, his entire body jolted as if he'd seen a ghost.

Vivian followed his stare. The seductive smirk on her painted lips froze, turning within seconds into shock and venomous jealousy.

Doyle immediately stepped in front of me, his shoulders tensing as his voice dropped to an icy warning.

"Mr. Mcbride, this is a hospital. Please show some basic decency."

Vivian shoved Acey's chest, scrambled off the sofa in her towering heels, and pointed a trembling, red-nailed finger at my face.

"Hali Alston?" she shrieked, her voice sharp enough to pierce my ears. "You shameless slut! You were thrown out of the territory like a stray dog, yet you dare show your face in Emerald Bay again?"