Chapter 4 Chapter 4

MICHELLE

"Today is going to be a great day."

Those were six words I never expected to say in my entire twenty five years on this planet. Yet, as I breathed in the crisp morning air, I found myself actually believing it.

On a normal Monday morning, I would wake up loathing my entire existence. My day usually began with an ice-cold bucket of water dumped over my head, a fake bug in my mouth, or some other humiliating, disgusting prank orchestrated by my stepsister, Clara. As a self-proclaimed "lifestyle and comedy influencer," Clara loved using me as the sacrificial lamb for her content. According to her, her five million followers absolutely adored watching her torture her "chubby, clueless sister." The comments were always a toxic wasteland of insults targeting my weight, my face, and my very existence, driving my already abysmal self-esteem straight into the gutter.

To make matters worse, my actual baby sis, Lydia–a rising fashion model with the physique of a polished toothpick–always joined in on the fun. They would stream it live, broadcasting my bedhead, my tears, and my oversized pajamas to virtually everyone in our territory. I was the permanent joke of the pack, the family embarrassment who went to work every morning feeling like a complete piece of trash.

But today? Today was different.

I woke up to glorious, fucking quiet. No cameras shoved in my face, no buckets of water, no shrill laughter.

It turned out the Evil Witches of the West had packed their bags and left last night for a high-profile fashion shoot in the neighboring Nortal Pack. Goddess only knew when they’d be back, but I wasn't about to complain. For the first time in years, I got to drink my coffee in peace, wear my favorite scrub set without someone making a slick comment about my curves, and walk out the front door with my head held high.

It felt like the Moon Goddess was finally cutting me a break after the utter shitshow that was yesterday.

Holding my warm morning latte tightly, I pushed open the glass double doors of Silver Creek Clinic. It wasn't nearly as massive or prestigious as Saint Jude’s–the high-end hospital where I’d had that bizarre, horrifying encounter with a delusional, angry teenager yesterday–but it was a decent, respectable place.

"Morning, beautiful world," I hummed, stepping up to the main reception desk.

My best friend, Mimi, snapped her head up from her computer screen. Just like me, Mimi was a wolfless Omega. And because the medical world was just as rank-obsessed as the rest of werewolf society, the administration kept both of us firmly glued behind the front desk. We were licensed, fully trained nurses, but to the upper-echelon staff, we were basically decorative paper-pushers with cheap name tags.

Mimi’s eyes were all saucer-like as she took in my bright smile. "Holy shit. Who are you and what have you done with Michelle?"

I chuckled, setting my latte down. "What? Can't a girl just be in a good mood?"

"Not you on a Monday morning.” She leaned over the counter and gave me a suspicious look. "You usually look like you’re contemplating stepping in front of a rogue silver bullet. What happened? Spill! Wait... don't tell me. You finally found your mate?"

That had my eyes rolling to another dimension. "Yeah, right. As if! Half the bitch-ass males in this pack couldn't handle all this woman even if they tried."

"That's my girl!" she cheered, pointing a pen at me. "Damn straight! But seriously, spill the tea. This unnaturally cheery vibe is creeping me out."

"If you must know" I pushed forward to her with a conspiratorial grin. "I woke up this morning to complete and total peace. No pranks. No live streams. The two evil witches packed up their brooms and flew off to the Nortal Pack last night."

Her jaw fell as she gasped. "No way! No pranks at all? How did you get so lucky?"

"I don't know, but I'm taking it as a sign. I just have this amazing, undeniable feeling about today, Mimi. Things are finally turning around."

With a warm smile plastered on her face, my best friend was about to open her mouth to reply when an authoritative throat-clearing came at that exact moment.

"Good morning, ladies," Dr. Vance said, stepping up to the desk.

He was a tall, arrogant Alpha male who rarely deigned to look us in the eye unless he was handing us a stack of filing folders. He only ever surrounded himself with high-ranking, model-thin female staff.

His eyes moved critically over me. "Michelle. Today might actually be your lucky day. Follow me."

That caught me off guard. "Wait... me, sir?"

"Yes, you. Nurse Sera called in sick with a sudden fever. I need someone to fill in for her immediately." With a sigh, he ran a hand through his slicked-back hair as if the admission pained him. "It’s a major surgical procedure for a high-end client. Now, frankly, I have my doubts about whether... certain physical limitations might make you a bit clumsy in a fast-paced operating room, but we're short-staffed. Let's see what you've got. I certainly hope I don't regret this."

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway, leaving Mimi and I staring at each other in breathless shock.

Four years. I had worked at this clinic for four years, and not once had I been allowed inside an operating room. Dr. Vance was notoriously elitist; if you weren't an elite Alpha or a stunning, reed-thin model, you were forced to stay at the bottom of the food chain. This was huge. If I pulled this off, it could finally get me out from behind this front desk for good.

"Are you coming, Michelle?!" came his sharp voice echoing from down the hall.

"Y-Yes, Doctor!" I squeaked.

I grabbed my clipboards, turning to Mimi with a silent squeal.

"I told you!" I whispered excitedly, bouncing on my toes. "I told you today was going to be a great day!"

"Go kill it, girl!" Mimi whispered back, giving me two enthusiastic thumbs up.

I smoothed down my scrubs, swallowed the nervous lump in my throat, and hurried after the doctor.

When we entered Operating Room 3, the nose smothering scent of antiseptic and silver sterilizers hit me. The patient was already prepped on the table, hooked up to heart monitors that beeped steadily, and standing on the far side of the tray was Nurse Daniella.

Daniella was the classic clinic mean girl–gorgeous, slender, high-ranking, and Nurse Sera’s best friend. The moment her eyes landed on me walking in alongside Dr. Vance, her posture stiffened. She shot me a glare so venomous it could have killed a rogue, curling her lips in disgust.

I simply swallowed hard and took my position opposite her. I wasn't going to let her nasty attitude ruin this for me. This was my moment, and I was going to prove I belonged here.

"Alright, team, let's keep it clean and precise," Dr. Vance instructed, snapping his sterile gloves into place. "As I mentioned earlier, this is a very important client. So everything must go flawlessly."

The operation began. At first, everything went like clockwork. I anticipated Dr. Vance's calls, handing him scalpels, sponges, and retractors efficiently. I could feel Daniella’s eyes burning holes into the side of my head, but I stayed laser-focused on the patient.

"We're wrapping up," Dr. Vance murmured after an hour, carefully closing the primary incision. "I need the final stabilizing push. Michelle, prepare five milligrams of Neurotrophin."

"Right away, Doctor," I said calmly, before turning to the medication tray. The vials were clearly labeled. I carefully drew the exact five-milligram dosage of Neurotrophin into the syringe, double-checking the fluid clarity and the numerical markers. Wanting to ensure strict protocol, I passed the prepped syringe across the tray to Daniella, who was standing closest to the doctor's IV port.

"Neurotrophin, five milligrams," I stated clearly, meeting her eyes.

Daniella snatched the syringe from my hand with a subtle, bitter scoff, turning her back to me as she stepped up to the injection port. "Here you go, Doctor."

Dr. Vance took the syringe from Daniella without looking up and depressed the plunger, injecting the liquid directly into the patient's line.

"Good work, everyone," Dr. Vance began to say. "Let's begin the–"

Suddenly, the flat rhythm of the heart monitor fractured into a terrifying screech.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!

The patient’s body violently convulsed on the table. Her spine arched off the mattress, wild, bloodshot eyes snapping open as foam instantly began bubbling from her lips.

"What the hell?!" Yelling, Dr. Vance grabbed her shoulders. "She's going into anaphylactic shock! Her heart rate is spiking past two hundred! What just happened?!"

It was instant panic as alarms blared deafeningly against the tiled walls.

"Get the crash cart! Now!" I grabbed the bag-valve mask to force oxygen into her lungs, my heart running at a hundred miles per second. "She's suffocating!"

Dr. Vance picked up the empty syringe from the tray, and once he took in the residue inside, his face turned a sickly, ghostly white.

"This isn't Neurotrophin!" he roared. "This is a mixture of Wolfsbane and Potassium Chloride! A lethal dose! Who the fuck prepped this syringe?!"

My blood ran cold. "W-What? No! I pulled the Neurotrophin! I checked the label!"

"Doctor, it was Michelle!" Shrieking in horror, Daniella's voice was all shaky as she backed away, pointing a finger at me. "She handed me the syringe! I assumed she knew what she was doing! I trusted her, and she gave me poison!"

"T-That's a lie!" My head spinned as terror pulled me in a deep embrace. "I-I gave you the right vial! I double-checked it! I swear on the Goddess–"

"Shut the fuck up!" Dr. Vance barked, shoving me violently out of the way as he grabbed the defibrillator paddles. "Charge to two hundred! We're losing her! Clear!"

THUMP.

The woman’s body bounced off the table, but the monitor didn't stabilize.

"Again! Charge to three hundred! Clear!"

THUMP.

The screaming of the monitors suddenly collapsed into a single, terrifying, unbroken tone.

BEEPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...

A suffocating silence falling over the operating room at that moment took the room hostage.

Standing frozen with the paddles trembling in his hands, Dr. Vance stared down at the lifeless eyes of the patient, his chest heaving. Slowly, he set the paddles down and looked up at me. His eyes weren't just angry–they were filled with a ruthless promise of destruction.

"Time of death... 10:42 AM,” he whispered. "You just murdered Govan Pack’s Beta’s mother, Michelle."