Chapter 3 A gifted healer

Evangeline,

Five years later,

“Certainly, not everyone wants a woman like her. Look at her double chin, as if all the fat has gathered there.”

A sharp burst of laughter echoed from the lab room as I walked down the corridor. It carried too clearly, bouncing off the sterile walls, slipping under my skin like it had done countless times before.

Beside me, Dr. Armstrong, one of the best neurologists in our Pack, slowed mid-step. His shoulders stiffened slightly, his attention shifting toward the source of the noise. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing at first.

Neither did I.

The faint smell of antiseptic lingered in the air as we continued forward, but instead of passing by, he pushed the lab door open and stepped inside.

The laughter died instantly.

A group of students stood there, my classmates. Their expressions shifted too quickly to hide. Smirks fell. Backs straightened. Eyes avoided mine.

We were supposed to meet in his office. But seemed like the meeting would be held right then and there.

“Your application for the military base has been cancelled.”

Just one calm and precise sentence. It was enough.

The room fell silent, completely, painfully silent.

Their eyes flickered toward me. Recognition settled in, followed by something uneasy. The girl with the double chin. The girl with no beauty. The girl who ate too much.

“Evangeline… Dr. Armstrong…” they murmured, voices low, uncertain, as if unsure where to look.

He ignored them.

So did I.

I walked past them, each step measured, and took my seat. The chair felt colder than usual, the metal pressing faintly through my uniform.

“I had five people in mind to recommend for the final course—military base training. Jenny Rodman, Taylor Brooks, Daniel Adams, Carla Brown, and Evangeline Deveraux.”

His voice filled the room, steady and controlled.

“Among you, for discrimination against classmates, bullying Omegas, and neglecting patients in the last three months after the main exam, I have decided to cancel the recommendation for Jenny Rodman, Carla Brown, and Taylor Brooks.”

A chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Jenny stood up, her face flushed red, her hands trembling at her sides. Other two looked like they'd faint anytime soon.

“What do you mean by that?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You can’t accuse me of something I didn’t do. I am a top three healer. You need me.”

There was a sharp edge beneath her words, something darker, almost desperate.

Dr. Armstrong remained unmoved.

“Miss Rodman,” he said evenly, “even though you have been in the top three, for the last three months we have observed each of you closely. Where you went, what you did during your duty at the hospital, and how you treated your colleagues.”

He paused briefly, his gaze unwavering.

“Jenny Rodman, you are the only one with a ninety percent record of bullying Omega coworkers, discrimination against patients, and constant phone use during work hours. We have received three official complaints through our management team. The others have shown similar misconduct, but to a lesser extent. The consequences are not negotiable.”

Her expression crumbled. The anger drained, leaving behind something hollow.

“I… I didn’t know I was being watched,” she muttered, her voice shaking. “This is stalking.”

He did not respond to that.

Instead, his gaze shifted across the room, sharp and cutting.

“We all know about Dr. Evangeline’s condition.”

A faint tension settled in the air again.

“Because of her excessive healing ability, her body consumes far more strength than any of yours. So before you dare to mock her, make sure you are at the same level as her.”

No one spoke. No one even moved.

“And each of you will undergo closed-door training again,” he continued. “Miss Jenny Rodman and the others—you will have another chance if you can prove change. A second recommendation letter will be considered after six months. Until then, be mindful of your behavior.”

Then he turned to me.

“Dr. Deveraux, you are to arrive at the University tomorrow at nine in the morning. You will leave the premises with Daniel Brooks and three professors.”

I lifted my eyes slightly and nodded.

He handed me a form.

“You will undergo three months of military training. You will witness real battles and real injuries. Remember—time is precise. If you cannot manage it, you will not survive it.”

His tone lowered slightly.

“There will be soldiers and warriors from all over the werewolf world. Be careful who you interact with. Especially those from the South.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the paper. South belonged to the Lycans. They'd be there to lead the training, not to be trained.

“I understand,” I said quietly.

“Although you are adults, parental consent is still advised… in case of unexpected circumstances.”

I glanced at the form. A guardian consent form. Even though except for me, everyone here was more than twenty five years old.

The paper felt heavier than it should have. I could die.

After that, he explained a few more details while we filled out the forms. Pens scratched faintly against paper. No one spoke unless necessary.

Three years ago, I had been recommended for medical school after collapsing during class after I cut my finger and my body started burning just like it did that day.

At that time, I didn’t even understand what was happening to me.

Later I was told that, I was one of the gifted Werewolves and I had healing power, a strong excessive power that only appeared once in a century.

Now, I was close to graduating, years ahead of everyone else. A five-year course reduced to two.

It didn’t feel like an achievement. It felt like I was moving robotic motion.

After leaving the lab, I went straight home.

A lot had changed since the betrayal.

Aunt Zara, now my mother, and her husband, who had become my father, had moved three Packs away from the place I once called home.

Some memories were still there. Blurred. Distant. I no longer reached for them.

“Welcome back!”

The door opened before I could press the bell. Mom stood there, smiling too brightly, her eyes soft with relief.

“Here she comes, honey. Our doctor daughter!”

From the kitchen, Dad, Christopher Deveraux, stepped out, still wearing an apron. The smell of cooked food followed him.

“Welcome home, Dr. Deveraux!” he said with a proud grin, giving me a small wink. “I’ve prepared a feast. Go take a shower first.”

I gave a small smile. It didn’t quite reach my eyes, but it was enough.

“Okay.” I headed upstairs.

Behind me, I heard Mom sigh softly. “ Must be Tired,” she murmured.

“Take a long, hot shower, baby,” Dad called out. “I’ll drive you to the university tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I replied, already climbing the stairs.

My room was quiet. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a second.

My life had changed, so did I.

Now, I couldn’t feel anything about my life. No warmth. No attachment. Nothing.

I tried, sometimes. Tried to feel grateful. Tried to become the daughter they deserved after everything they had done for me.

But something inside me had gone still. And they accepted it. They never questioned it. Never pushed. As if having me around was all they needed.

That made me more grateful, at least, I knew it should have. Even if I couldn’t truly feel it.

The next morning,

Dad drove me to the campus. The early air was cool, brushing faintly against my face through the open window.

Daniel Brooks and a few others were already waiting near the vehicle. I had never interacted with them, though. They might be new professors.

Dad handed me the consent form, his expression turning serious.

“Remember,” he said, “always be careful around the warlord. He’s a Lycan. Not someone we can afford to offend.”

I nodded quietly. Lots of people had already warned me about it.

“I understand. I’ll go now. Thank you.”

“Your mom and I will miss you, sweetheart.”

I paused.

Then I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him without a word.

He stiffened slightly in surprise.

“Me too,” I said quietly. “Tell Mom I love her.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“What about me?” he asked, almost offended, though there was a faint glint of amusement there.

I shook my head lightly.

“I love you too, Dad. Bye.”

Before he could respond, I turned and walked toward the car that had just arrived.

He let out a breath behind me, something between a sigh and a quiet laugh, before following to help with my luggage.

Dad had once been a Gamma. He had left everything behind to come here for me.

So he knew exactly what this meant. Military training was never easy. Not for anyone.

It was brutal, exhausting and unforgiving.

And this was an inter-pack program, warriors, healers, soldiers from all over gathered in one place for their final training before stepping into their roles.

Trouble was inevitable.

But I would stay away from it. From everything. Especially from the infamous Lycan Warlord who led the training.

I promised myself to keep myself as low, as invisible as possible.