(1) Magnus
(Anastasia.)
“Fuck. Call it.” After throwing the defibrillator back onto the crash cart, I wiped sweat off my brow with my forearm.
“Time of death is…” One of the nurses, Renee, stood on the other side of the table and looked at her watch. “Fifteen-oh-six.” She typed it in and then frowned at me. “I’m sorry, Doctor Hansen.”
Hanging my head, I dropped my hands to my hips. “Fuck," I repeated, looking at the dead woman on the table next to me. She wasn't much older than me. "Um...the husband’s outside, right?”
She nodded. “Do you want me to–”
“No, it's alright. Thank you for offering. I'll do it.”
I slowly pulled off my gloves and tossed them into the hazard bin, then opened the door.
“Mr. Graham?” I called out.
A nervous middle-aged man stood from a chair in the hallway and looked at me with wide eyes. A young girl stood beside him, no older than fourteen or fifteen. My gaze flicked to her just a second, then back to him.
“May I speak to you privately?” I pointed to an empty waiting room beside us.
After he filed in, I shut the door behind us and let out a long sigh. “As you know, your wife went into cardiac arrest. I don’t know how long her heart had stopped before she arrived here from the ambulance. We did everything we could, but... I’m sorry, sir. She’s dead.”
The man’s lips parted, releasing a guttural groan. Something like a keening howl followed and startled me, the sound so profoundly… heart breaking and ear-piercing as he collapsed to the ground.
“She said she was tired this morning. She still went to work.” He gasped for air as I squat down beside him and rest my hand on his shoulder. “I made her stop at the store afterward and get dinner at the deli. I was too lazy to cook. Oh, God, I killed her.”
“No, that’s-- that’s not true. You didn’t kill her. She could have had a genetic predisposition or an underlying heart condition you weren’t aware of. There are so many unknown elements. No one could have predicted this.”
Through a screen of tears he looked to the door. “Molly’s out there. What am I supposed to say?” he gasped for air again, clutching at his chest as tears rolled down his face. “How do you tell your kid their mother is dead?”
I swallowed hard, sitting back on my heels. “I… I don’t know,” I whispered honestly. “There is no good way, except to be honest. I can go with you and tell her. Or, is there another family member we can call?”
“My wife's sister… but… she’s in Utah. Oh, God.” He hung his head and cradled it in his palms. I sat with him a moment, then gently pat his shoulder to rouse him.
“Would you like me to bring your daughter in, sir? Or would you like a moment?”
I never knew what to do or say. The clinical side of it, spouting off the facts was second-nature… but the aftermath? It was painful to witness people have normal, healthy reactions to death.
This man weeping was normal. Collapsing to the ground, crying and screaming for his dead wife. All normal.
I didn’t weep when I came across Ethan's gutted body in my living room. Or when Mom died in front of me. The moment the last breath escaped her lips, I had gone cold inside. Like a part of my own body died at the same time.
I’d stared off into space until the ambulance and cops arrived, not a single tear shed.
Mr. Graham tried standing and I helped him, slowly lowering him back into a chair. “Please bring her in," he said to me.
I nodded and opened the waiting room door. The girl shot to her feet, staring at me.
I stared back.
She was so young. Long red hair. Freckles. Large, intelligent blue eyes that told me she already knew what I was going to say.
I swallowed hard, pushing down the lid on the box inside me. This wasn’t about me.
“Miss Graham. Would you come inside and sit with your Dad?”
She nodded, walking past me and into the room where her father loudly wept.
“Dad. Daddy?” Surprised, Molly rushed to his side. “Tell me.” The girl’s voice cracked and I felt the box threatening to open.
“She’s gone, baby.”
“What?” Her eyes were wide as saucers as she looked between him and me.
“She went into cardiac arrest at the supermarket,” I said, stuffing my sweaty hands into my lab coat pockets. “By the time she arrived, she had already been flat-lining. We tried everything to revive her, but…” I pursed my lips a moment. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
The young girl stared at me as fat tear drops rolled down her cheeks. Her chin trembled. And I didn’t dare to look away.
If I did, I was betraying my past-self. I was betraying Ethan, and Mom.
I don't know how long we stood like that. A nurse and a grief counselor quietly entered the room and I gave them a weak nod as I swiftly turned and left.
I went straight for Mia’s locker, pulling out a cigarette and even stole her lighter.
Moving through the hallways to the back alley, I relished the cold evening air and rest against the wall beside the dumpster.
My fingers trembled as I tried to light the end of the cigarette, my thumbs shaking-- useless, and couldn't get the flame to come out.
My vision began to blur. “Come on, fucker,” I whispered at the lighter, my thumb slipping on the turning wheel.
Suddenly, a flame appeared in front of me in the darkness and I lifted my head.
An egregiously handsome, ridiculously tall male with brown hair shaved on the sides and longer strands slicked back on the top smiled faintly at me from the reflection of the small flame coming off his metal lighter. He wore a dark blue suit and looked both dangerous and regal.
After a second's hesitation, I bent forward, lighting the end of my cigarette, and then stood straight. “Thank you.”
“Of course." He snapped the lighter closed and shoved it into his pocket. "Doctor Hansen, right?”
I nodded warily. "Do I know you?”
“Not at all,” he grinned at me, showing large canines. “But I know your pack.”
Ilya. Eric. Damon. Though I’d avoided Damon like the plague, he was still a part of the pack and therefore impossible to fully ignore.
Nervous, I glanced up the siding of the hospital wall, realizing there were no security cameras there. Ilya wouldn’t like that he couldn’t keep an eye on me here, and this was the one moment I wished he could.
“Eric has been trying to keep a lid on your presence… but I smelled him on you from practically a mile away.” He laughed. “Has he impregnated you, yet? The alphas always have the stronger sperm, you know.”
My arms crossed as my face scrunched up. “Is this how alphas fight nowadays? Compare sperm potency?”
"So you already knew I was an alpha? How flattering." He chuckled again, the sound musical and annoyingly charming. Large hands settled into his trouser pockets. “No fighting, here, I assure you. I sensed you were in distress and thought I’d check on you.”
“Distress,” I repeated dubiously.
“You release pheromones, you know. It’s a side-effect of the bond.”
“I haven’t completed the bond.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.” The man smiled and nervousness crept over me again. "But I could still smell it on you. It's an alphas job to take care of his pack mates."
"You're not my alpha."
"Precisely. So, where is Eric?"
Did he really expect Eric to follow me around like a dog on a leash?
“I should get back–”
He shot forward and braced his hand on the back alley door, effectively caging me in. I got a whiff of expensive cologne that wasn't unpleasant to breathe in, yet the close proximity made my heart race.
"But you haven’t even enjoyed your cigarette." His eyes focused on my face, lowering to my lips. "I’m not trying to scare you, Doctor. It's merely a courtesy visit. Your alpha sent out a call to the other packs in the area, as you probably know.”
I swallowed, glancing down at the untouched cigarette between my fingers. I did know. Eric was attempting to form alliances and create some sort of militia on my behalf. To take out my father.
“And you were looking for the reason why," I guessed.
“Right. And now I see you’re not just a pretty face. A doctor!" He stepped back to look me over and whistled. "Perhaps we can make a deal with your man after all.”
I lifted my gaze to him, frowning. In the dark, I couldn't tell exactly what color his eyes were, either green or gray. “What sort of deal?”
“Most wolves work in the same general area-- I think your pack calls it security, but that’s just a PG-version of saying mercenary. Personally, I don’t shy from the truth.” He smiled. “My pack is quite large, Doctor Hansen. There’s fifty of us–”
“Fifty?” I cried out, jolting back against the wall. Wait– one person was supposed to bond to fifty people? How did that even work?!
The alpha was genuinely surprised by my reaction, throwing his head back as he burst into laughter. “Oh, you are adorable! I can tell we’re going to have fun with you.”
I backed up towards the door again, trying to keep space between us. “Not the kind of fun you’re thinking of.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Tell Eric my condition is this: Injuries are inevitable in our line of work. If you agree to treat my pack, then we will consider his request.”
I scoffed. “You'll only consider it? Wow."
"Well, how do I know that you're not a shit doctor? We'd have to do a trial run." He gingerly twirled his fingers around some of my loose hair that had fallen out of my ponytail from performing CPR.
"Lucky me."
“You have no idea, darling.”
I bat his hand away. “So, you want a Doctor on hand. I’m amenable to that. But only if you don’t screw around with my mates. Follow through on your word, and I’ll follow through on mine.”
He smiled, flicking a business card out from his suit jacket and handed it me.
“Magnus,” I read aloud, then sighed. “Of course your name is Magnus.”
He barked with laughter again, giving my chin a little affectionate pinch. I quickly ripped my head away from his grip.
“You are too much fun," He said, then his voice lowered to a dangerous, sensual whisper. "You’d better hurry and finish that bond, Doctor Hansen. Or I might have to steal you away and keep you for myself.”
He spun on his heel and I brought in a deep drag of my cigarette with annoyance as he wiggled his fingers at me in a friendly wave. “I’ll be in touch!” he called in sing-song over his shoulder.
Slowly, I scrubbed my free hand down my face. Fifty wolves in his pack. Fifty! That was a sizable team to back us if Magnus was willing to go up against my father.
But more troubling, how did one keep fifty wolves in line? Eric seemed to have his work cut out for him with just Damon and Ilya.
I had a newfound respect for Magnus in that way, but I wasn’t certain if I wanted to know his methods. He seemed like the type to hold secrets and only God knew what else.
I took one more long drag and then dropped the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with my shoe.
The rest of my shift flew by, and by the time the sun was starting to rise, I was exhausted. Emotionally and physically. I pulled off my doctor's coat and dropped it into my locker, allowing myself to let out a long, weary sigh before I slammed the metal door shut.
It had been a week since my unfortunate encounter with Ralph in the forest. Physically, I had recovered, but my emotional resiliency was waning.
That girl's face flashed in my mind and I tried pushing it out with a head shake.
After pulling my purse over my shoulder, I headed for the back entrance.
God, I was ready to sleep. Maybe snuggle in between Eric and Ilya until she stopped haunting my mind.
I pulled my phone out of my purse and saw only one notification from Ilya.
Oh no. No. No.
I groaned aloud as the automatic doors slid open and I passed through.
Sure enough, Damon stood there waiting with his arms crossed. His long brown hair had been carefully tied back at the nape of his neck, but some loose strands attractively framed his tanned face. He wore a dark leather jacket and looked as intimidating and terrifying as the day I'd met him. And just as beautiful.
I’d successfully avoided him for an entire week... it was childish to hope I could make it a whole lifetime.
I said nothing, slowing to a stop when he noticed me. The bond didn’t reach for him even though my chest ached.
Damon’s expression gave away nothing. He merely spun on his heel towards the parking garage. "Let's go."
