The Night Shift

Violet

Legacy.

The elders say you either have what it takes to save a life, or you don’t. My father was born to lead, a legend among Alphas. His legacy is written in blood and loyalty. Me? I’m just trying to prove that being a Night means something more than the name I carry. Which is why waking up naked in a bed that isn’t mine, in a room I don’t recognize, on the morning of my first day as an intern healer at Cedar Springs General Hospital is, objectively speaking, a terrible start.

I took a deep breath and turned my head, staring at the back of a stranger. The sun was just beginning to rise, illuminating the cream-colored walls of the bedroom. Slowly, I slid my hand down my side in search of my phone, freezing when the stranger shifted beside me.

I adjusted my head and squinted at the screen. 6:15 a.m. Of course I had five missed calls from Dad. He was still my Alpha no matter what territory I was in. Probably worried I ran away before I even stepped foot in the hospital.

Carefully, I slid out of bed and gathered my clothes from the floor. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I was going to be late on my first day.

I pulled on my underwear, jeans, and blouse as quickly as I could, wincing when the fabric snagged on my watch. My shoes were abandoned near the foot of the bed, and I nearly tripped over one reaching for the other. The stranger didn’t stir. Thank the Moon Goddess.

Phone in hand, shoes dangling from my fingers, I crept toward the bedroom door. I had absolutely no intention of waking up to explain myself to a man whose name I couldn’t even remember.

I eased the door open and promptly froze.

A man stood in the hallway, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black T-shirt and gray sweatpants. His eyes settled on me, taking in my disheveled appearance before flicking toward the open bedroom door behind me.

Then his gaze dropped to my neck. He paused and I instinctively pressed myself against the wall, suddenly very aware of the fact that I was half-dressed and standing outside a stranger’s bedroom.

His expression shifted, just slightly. Confusion, maybe, or suspicion.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, squeezing past him before he could ask a single question.

His eyes followed me. I could practically feel them burning into the back of my head as I hurried down the hallway.

I took the stairs two at a time, clutching my shoes against my chest and praying that no one else would emerge from the various doors lining the corridor. The last thing I needed was an audience to witness my walk of shame.

I made it down the stairs, through the front door, and halfway to my car before I finally stopped to catch my breath. That was when I noticed the property. The sprawling house and beautifully landscaped gardens. The security cameras. The men stationed near the gates. The unmistakable scent of wolves lingering in the morning air.

My stomach dropped. A pack house. I’d spent the night in a pack house. I stared at the building, then at my phone.

6:22 a.m.

“Shit.”

Whatever I’d gotten myself into last night, I could worry about it later. Right now, I had a hospital to get to. I held up my key fob, clicking it like a madwoman while running toward my old, trusted green Jeep Grand Cherokee. My phone rang again as I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

I hesitated, knowing exactly who was on the other end. With a loud groan, I pressed the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Violet!” My father’s voice rang through the car as I sped out of the pack grounds. “I attempted to call you several times.”

“I know, Dad,” I answered, looking over my shoulder as I merged onto the road. “I was a little busy.”

“Getting ready for your internship, correct?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Dad.” I answered sharply. That seemed to satisfy him.

“Good,” he said. “You know how proud I am to have a daughter in one of the top programs in the country.”

Bile began to rise in my throat from last night’s activities. If he knew what had happened, would he still be proud of me now?

“Yeah,” I answered softly. “I’m just nervous.”

“Violet, don’t be nervous. This is what we were built for. It’s our legacy.”

Legacy. There it was again. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, watching the traffic crawl ahead of me. My father made it sound so simple, as if being born a Night meant I was automatically destined for greatness.

Maybe it did for him. But I wasn’t my father. I wasn’t a destined Alpha, as the healers called him, and I wasn’t interested in spending my life trying to become one. I wanted to save lives. I wanted to be good at something because I’d earned it, not because of the family I came from. And preferably, I wanted to make it through my first day without anyone discovering that I’d spent the night in a stranger’s bed.

“Violet?” Dad’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m driving.”

“Then I’ll let you go. Call me when you get settled, all right? And remember, your mother and I are proud of you.”

My chest tightened. “Thanks, Dad.”

We said our goodbyes, and I ended the call. For a moment, I let the silence settle around me. Then I glanced at the dashboard clock.

6:38 a.m.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” I pressed my foot harder against the accelerator.

By the time Cedar Springs General came into view, my nerves were shot, my hair was a mess, and I was fairly certain I had broken at least several traffic laws. I wouldn't be surprised if one or more tickets were in my mailbox by the end of the week.

The hospital rose above the surrounding buildings, its glass windows catching the early morning sunlight. Cars streamed through the entrance, and people hurried through the automatic doors, some clutching coffee cups, others pushing wheelchairs or carrying bags.

Cedar Springs General was one of the most respected medical institutions in the region. It had an excellent reputation among human physicians and supernatural healers alike, which was exactly why getting accepted into its internship program had been such a big deal. It was also why I had spent the last several weeks telling everyone who asked that I was excited.

Excited, right. I was absolutely terrified.

I pulled into the parking garage and found a space on the third level. For a moment, I sat there with both hands on the steering wheel. This was it.

Years of studying, training, and listening to my father explain what it meant to carry the Night name had led me here. Today, I wasn’t the daughter of an Alpha. I wasn’t the girl everyone expected to do something extraordinary. I was an intern healer. And I was already late. Mother Goddess help me, I thought to myself.

“Get it together, Violet.” I grabbed my bag, checked my reflection in the rearview mirror, and immediately regretted it. My dark hair was doing something that could only be described as a cry for help.

A quick attempt to tame it did absolutely nothing. Whatever. Fuck it. My hair could embarrass me later.

I locked the Jeep and hurried toward the elevators, repeating the directions I’d memorized the night before. Except, when the elevator doors opened, I stepped out into a crowded lobby and immediately forgot every single one of them.

I stood there for approximately three seconds, wondering if it was too late to turn around and become a farmer.

Then I spotted the sign for Administration. Finally. Something I could handle. I straightened my blouse, lifted my chin, and walked toward it. My first day was going to be fine. It had to be.

The administrative office was already bustling with activity. A printer whirred in the corner, a telephone rang somewhere behind the reception desk, and a woman with short brown hair was sorting through a stack of folders.

I approached the desk with what I hoped was a professional smile.

“Good morning. I’m here for the new healer intern orientation.”

The woman glanced up. “Name?”

“Violet Night.”

Her fingers paused over the keyboard. It was brief. Barely a second. But I caught it. The recognition. The subtle shift in her expression. I knew that look. I’d seen it my entire life.

“Night?” she repeated.

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Yes. Violet Night.”

“Oh! Of course.” Her expression brightened, and she reached for a clipboard. “We’ve been expecting you.”

That made one of us.

“Wonderful,” I said, forcing another smile.

She handed me a badge and a folder thick enough to qualify a graduate dissertation.

“Orientation is in Conference Room B. Take the corridor to your left, turn right at the elevators, and follow the signs. You should be able to find it.”

“Thank you.”

I took two steps away from the desk before looking down at the folder. My name was printed neatly across the front.

VIOLET NIGHT — INTERN HEALER

I stared at it for a moment. Then I tucked it under my arm and headed down the corridor. I was going to do this. I was going to work hard, learn everything I could, and prove that I deserved to be here.

And if anyone made a big deal about my surname, I was going to smile politely and remind them that I could, in fact, think for myself. At least, that was the plan.

Conference Room B was at the end of a long corridor lined with framed photographs of the hospital’s founding physicians. Several of the portraits featured healers whose names I recognized from my textbooks. I slowed as I passed one in particular.

Dr. Eleanor Whitmore. A renowned healer who had developed a treatment for severe supernatural blood loss decades earlier. Her work was still taught in medical programs across the country.

She had saved hundreds of lives. That was the sort of legacy I wanted. Not the kind inherited through a title, a family name, or the number of wolves willing to kneel when you entered a room. The kind you built with your own two hands.

I reached the conference room door and checked my phone.

6:59 a.m.

I was actually on time. Goddess thank you, I prayed silently.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my badge, and pushed the door open. A dozen faces turned toward me.

The room was filled with young healers, all wearing variations of the same nervous expression I was desperately trying to hide. Some sat in pairs, whispering to each other. Others stared at their folders or scrolled through their phones.

At the front of the room, a woman in a white coat stood beside a projector screen.

Her gaze landed on me. “Can I help you?”

I resisted the urge to retreat into the hallway. “Violet Night. Intern healer.”

She glanced at the clock. “You’re right on time, Miss Night. Find a seat. We’re just getting started.”

I nodded and scanned the room.

A young woman with long, dark hair waved at me from the second row, shifting her bag off the empty chair beside her. I mouthed a silent thank-you and hurried over before the instructor could change her mind.

“Cutting it close?” she whispered as I sat down.

“You have no idea.”

She grinned. “I’m Daphne.”

“Violet.”

Her gaze dropped to my badge, then returned to my face. “Night?”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Please don’t.”

She blinked. Then she laughed, covering her mouth to keep the sound quiet. “Oh, I like you already.”

The woman at the front cleared her throat, and the room fell silent.

“Good morning. My name is Dr. Catherine Hayes, and I’m the director of the healer internship program here at Cedar Springs General. Over the next year, you’ll work alongside some of the most accomplished physicians and supernatural healers in the country.”

She clicked a button, and the projector displayed the hospital’s emblem.

“Your academic achievements earned you a place in this program. However, I want to make one thing clear. Your grades, your family connections, and your reputations will not save a patient’s life.”

My attention sharpened.

“Your decisions will. Your ability to work under pressure will. And your willingness to admit when you don’t know something may be the difference between a patient going home and a family planning a funeral.”

The room grew quieter.

“This hospital treats humans and supernaturals alike. You will encounter injuries and illnesses that cannot be handled with conventional medicine alone. You will be expected to understand the differences, recognize the risks, and work alongside physicians whose specialties may be unfamiliar to you.”

She paused, letting her gaze travel across the room.

“Some of you have spent your lives preparing for this. Some of you come from families with generations of healers. Others have had to fight for every opportunity. I don’t care which category you fall into.”

I sat a little straighter.

“Once you walk through those doors, you are interns. You are here to learn. You are here to work. And you are here because we believe you have the potential to become excellent healers.”

For the first time since waking up, I felt something other than panic. Maybe I really did belong here. Dr. Hayes continued through the orientation schedule, explaining the rotations, the attending physicians, and the expectations for the coming weeks. I scribbled notes in the margins of my folder, trying to absorb everything.

Beside me, Daphne leaned over. “Do you think she practices those speeches in the mirror?”

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “Probably.”

“Terrifying woman.”

“She seems nice.”

“That’s how they get you.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself.

When orientation finally ended, chairs scraped against the floor as everyone began gathering their things. Dr. Hayes called out instructions about reporting to the assigned departments, and the room quickly dissolved into nervous conversations.

I was still trying to decipher the schedule when someone stopped beside our table.

A woman with striking features and an immaculate ponytail looked down at the papers in my hands.

“You’re Violet Night?”

I slowly lifted my eyes. “Is it written on my forehead?”

Her mouth twitched. “No. Your badge.”

“Right.”

She extended a hand. “Serena Connors.”

I shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. I was wondering if you knew where we’re supposed to report after orientation. The schedule says the surgical wing, but the map in this folder looks like it was designed by someone who hates people.”

Daphne leaned over to inspect it. “Oh, good. I thought it was just me.”

I looked between them, then down at the map. Three minutes into my new career, and I already had a potential friendship group and a navigational crisis. Maybe I could work with that.

A young man approached, his dark hair slightly disheveled and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. “Please tell me one of you knows where the surgical wing is.”

Daphne pointed at the map. “We were just discussing how this thing is an act of psychological warfare.”

He peered over her shoulder. “Excellent. I’m Logan, by the way. If we get lost, I want it on record that I tried to find the way.”

I laughed. “Violet.”

“Night?” He glanced at my badge. “As in the Blood Moon Alpha?”

I sighed. “I’m beginning to think I should have left my badge at home.”

Logan grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to introduce me to your father.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Unless you can get me out of night shifts.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Worth a shot.”

Daphne laughed, and even Serena’s carefully composed expression softened.

For a moment, standing there with three people who had no idea what kind of morning I’d had, I felt almost normal. Then the overhead speakers crackled.

“Medical team to the emergency department. Incoming critical patient. Multiple injuries. All available healers report immediately.”

The conversation around us stopped.

Dr. Hayes appeared in the doorway, her expression suddenly serious. She looked directly at us.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Move it, people.”

My stomach dropped. My first day had barely begun. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I had the terrible feeling that it was about to get a whole lot worse.