Heir to the Alpha
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B. E. Harmel
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2.3M
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33
Chapter 1
Book 1: Heir to the Alpha
The piercing wail of the siren sent my heart into overdrive. That high-pitched alarm never signaled anything good. I sprang up from my seat in the cafeteria, where I was nursing my sixth cup of coffee for the night, and darted into the hallway to lend a hand.
Other medical staff were bustling about, trying to ready themselves for the unknown. Then, a familiar voice echoed through the loudspeaker.
“The southern border has been attacked,” my mom, who was director of the hospital, announced. “We know of at least fifteen injured soldiers at the moment. There could be more. Everyone, initiate the trauma plan.”
Before she even finished speaking, we were already springing into action. Jack, the night nurse, was marshaling staff at the emergency room entrance, and I joined the other doctors—my sister Karen, Michael, and Riegal—in line, with Bertha, the other nurse on duty, ready to assist in the rooms.
Hospital work was always intense, but the recent uptick in border attacks had ratcheted up the stress levels. I headed to room one and began prepping the suture equipment, which I knew I’d be needing. It wasn’t long before the hallway was filled with the agonized screams and moans of the wounded.
Jack burst into my room, wheeling in a stretcher carrying a wolf with a massive gash in its hind leg and a bite on its neck.
I didn’t waste a second. Slipping on my gloves, I began probing for the silver with my tweezers and scalpel. For us wolves, silver was our Achilles’ heel.
It was the weapon of choice for the guards—daggers and silver bullets. Contact with silver caused a burning sensation and unbearable pain for us. A silver-inflicted wound wouldn’t stop bleeding and could lead to death in no time.
While we had accelerated healing abilities in wolf form, they didn’t apply to silver wounds. Plus, a wolf couldn’t revert to human form until all the silver was removed. That’s why I knew to look for silver in this patient.
As I probed his wounds, his pained moans tugged at my heartstrings.
“Just stay calm,” I reassured him. “I’ll remove the silver right away. Everything will be okay.”
I had located two wounds, and I knew time was of the essence. He was losing blood fast. I just hoped I hadn’t made a promise I couldn’t keep.
I took a moment to send up a silent prayer to the Moon Goddess, asking for wisdom and guidance.
Then, taking a deep breath, I moved to his neck and quickly located a silver bullet. I removed it, and the guard swiftly reverted to human form. Relief washed over me as I found the silver, but without his fur to obscure the view, his wounds were now fully visible.
And the sight wasn’t pretty. I quickly grabbed the anti-silver serum and began treating his neck while applying a clotting ointment to his leg. The leg wound closed up quickly, but I had to suture the one on his neck.
I worked swiftly, and in less than fifteen minutes, he was stable.
“Okay, you’re going to be okay,” I reassured the soldier.
He nodded his thanks, attempting a weak smile. I needed him to be okay.
The lives of my patients were sacred to me, and I did everything in my power to ensure their wellbeing. My life’s mission was to practice medicine, and when it came to the guards—those who risked their lives to protect us—it was even more crucial.
My own brother-in-law, Thomas, was a guard, and I knew firsthand the dangers they faced daily.
I called for Jack, and he wheeled the stabilized guard to the recovery room. As soon as the bed was cleared, the next patient was rolled in, this time in human form. His insignia indicated that he wasn’t just any guard.
He was bald with a long red beard. His guard uniform was torn, and it was clear he had been severely attacked. Most of his wounds had already healed, but his shoulder was gaping open and bleeding heavily.
I began treatment to stop the bleeding and then applied an ointment to numb the pain.
“I don’t think sutures will be necessary,” I told him. “Once the treatment is done, you’ll be discharged.”
“Thank you, doctor,” he replied.
As I turned to tell Jack he could take the patient out, the door swung open and a potent, woodsy scent, tinged with cinnamon and coffee, hit me, sending shivers down my spine. It felt like my stomach had flipped inside out.
“Alpha,” the soldier I had just treated whispered.
It was the fucking alpha.
Alpha Christopher was an imposing figure, standing head and shoulders above most—his height only adding to his intimidating aura. His sharp features were set in a stern expression, his eyes cold and calculating.
Those icy blue eyes could see right through you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. His dark hair, always impeccably styled, framed a face that seldom showed warmth or compassion. His broad shoulders and muscular build were a testament to his strength and control—a body built for battle and dominance.
The alpha moved with purpose, each step measured and deliberate, as if he owned the very ground he walked on. His mere presence was enough to silence a room, and his reputation for strict discipline and unwavering rule ensured that no one dared to cross him.
He was one of those people who didn’t need introductions. We all knew he was the alpha without anyone having to say it. His authority and power were palpable, almost visible.
I couldn’t believe I was standing this close to the alpha. I was transfixed by his gaze. I opened my mouth to speak, but it was as if my brain had short-circuited, and I was rooted to the spot.
What the hell kind of reaction is that?
My father was the head of our pack’s administrative department, so I had seen Alpha Christopher before. But it was always from a distance, never this close, never in the same room, and never with his scent so overpowering.
I felt utterly spellbound. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to reach out and touch him, and my body was about to move toward him, but it was my patient’s voice that snapped me out of my trance.
“Alpha, I can return now. We need to decide on our next move,” he said, starting to remove the serum from his arm.
“No, you can’t leave until the anti-silver serum is finished,” I said quickly. “If you remove it now, the burn will return.”
He looked to the alpha for guidance.
“It should only take another minute,” I assured him.
He grunted—a reluctant agreement.
“Who are you?” the alpha asked, and I froze, realizing I had failed to show him the proper respect.
Alpha Christopher’s voice was a force to be reckoned with—commanding obedience without a second thought. Yet it also had a way of making my knees feel like jelly.
“Alpha, I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. I’m Dr. Scarlett Byron,” I managed to say.
“Thank you for looking after my guards,” he responded, his gaze piercing into mine. I swallowed hard. “Marquardt, how many casualties have we suffered?”
His question sent a shiver of fear down my spine.
Suddenly, I realized who I had been treating. Marquardt was the head of the guard—a name my father often mentioned.
“Two guards have lost their lives, but over thirty are here receiving treatment.”
His voice—heavy with sorrow—made me shudder.
Two guards. Two lives. Snuffed out.
Our pack had always been a haven of peace—making attacks a rarity. But lately, they’d been happening more frequently. In the past fortnight alone, we’d had three attacks, but no fatalities until now.
My father had mentioned during a family lunch that the attacks were occurring on the southern border. This was unexpected. The southern pack was under the leadership of Alpha Christopher’s cousin. Why would a family member instigate an attack?
Due to the attacks, our pack was on high alert, especially with the annual ball around the corner. My father had mentioned the possibility of canceling it for safety reasons, but the ball was a celebration of love for our pack.
It was on this day that those over twenty-two could find their life mate, their soul mate. It was on this day that mates met, and the she-wolves became fertile.
The ball was crucial for the survival of our pack. It couldn’t be canceled.
Not even in the face of this recent attack.
“Doctor, I believe the treatment is complete,” Marquardt said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“All right, if you experience any discomfort, don’t hesitate to return to the ER,” I instructed, removing his IV.
“Thank you,” Marquardt said before exiting the room.
“Thank you for your services, Dr. Scarlett,” Alpha Christopher said, his deep voice resonating within me. His sky-blue eyes locked with mine one last time, stealing my breath away before I could manage a nod.
Then he was gone.
I was left with a peculiar sense of emptiness. But before I could decipher what was happening inside me, Jack wheeled in the next injured guard. It was time to get back to work. I pushed down the strange feelings bubbling within me, deciding to deal with them later.
