CHIEF KADE
I always prided myself on being a man of sharp instincts, and today, they were screaming one word: opportunity.
When the Alpha of the Winnor Pack, Nicholas Winnor, was wheeled into my hospital, clinging to life for dear life, it wasn't so much a medical emergency as a political windfall. I hadn't reached Chief of Surgery by accident, after all. I'd clawed, crawled, and plotted my way to the top, and this? This was the kind of thing that could bring me to the attention of the higher-ups in the supernatural world.
I had to get this right.
The moment the surgical team finished the last stitch on Nicholas, I made sure that I was the first person he saw the moment his eyes fluttered open. I'd practiced my most professional, concerned-but-in-control smile in the mirror before going into his room.
"Alpha Winnor," I began, voice as smooth as the silk tie knotted at my throat, "it's a pleasure to have you in our care. We're offering only the best for you. The very best." I let the word hang, like a subtle suggestion of my own importance.
Nicholas looked at me, pale and weak but keen behind those glacial eyes. No thanks, no feeling. Just. calculation. A man used to people playing angles.
But I didn't stop. Oh no, I heaped on the charm like a master artist adding to his masterpiece.
"I personally supervised your surgical team," I lied. I hadn't touched a scalpel, of course—Annalise Keaton had performed the actual work, and the two of us together, even I had to admit her hands had saved his life. Still, a man had to brag.
I poured him a glass of water and placed it near his bed, as if I were his personal valet and not the most powerful surgeon in the hospital.
"You rest, Alpha. Anything you desire, and I mean anything at all, will be taken care of. I'm making it my personal charge."
And then the games began in earnest.
I waylaid Annalise the moment she emerged from his room. The girl had the same haunted, steely glint in her eye that she always had, as if the world owed her a war and she was going to battle for it. I generally tried not to get on her bad side. She had too much talent and too little patience for my kind of hospital politics.
This was different.
"Dr. Keaton," I told her, offering my best fatherly, worried expression. "I visited your patient—Alpha Nicholas, that is—he seemed a bit. uneasy. I thought your bedside manner might need to be thawed out some."
Her eyebrows lifted, sharp enough to split me in two. "He's alive due to me. That should be comfort enough."
I laughed, the sound light and patronizing at the same time. "Now, now, Doctor. You know how these upper-level Alphas are. A little bit of kindness goes a long way. You're the only friendly face he knows in this antiseptic environment. You're the one person who can provide him with reassurance."
Her silence told me she'd already seen through my motives.
"You wish for me to get close to the Alpha so you can get his seal of approval," she deadpanned.
"I prefer it when you say it's to help relations between the medical community and the. supernatural elite," I said to her, waving my hand vaguely upward as though I was envisioning our futures paved in gold.
She didn't say anything, just stared at me a beat too long, then turned and walked away, her white coat flowing behind her like a battle standard.
But I wasn't done. I never am.
I would keep Nicholas comfortable. I would keep Annalise near him, whether she wanted to be or not. The Alpha's gratitude was a coin I was going to spend—sooner rather than later.
And if Annalise would not play ball, well, there were always ways of bringing pressure to bear.
A man does not become Chief of Surgery without learning how to control the heartbeat of an entire hospital.
It wasn't hard to spot her.
Emily stood by the window of the waiting lounge, arms crossed, her back so stiff it looked painful. She had that tightly composed expression women wear when the world is crumbling under their feet, but appearances must be maintained. I'd seen it a thousand times before. Wealthy, high-status — desperate, despite their silk blouses and designer heels.
A perfect opening.
I brushed my coat straight, adjusted the ID badge on my chest, and stepped forward with the kind of quiet confidence I'd developed over the years. I didn't speak right away, just stood a respectful distance until she sensed me, her bright blue eyes flicking toward me, guarded.
Ms. Emily," I began, putting just the right mix of gravity and concern into my voice, "I wanted to offer my own condolences. Your partner's condition was worse than most would have survived."
Her mask softened — a crack in the glass. Sympathy was magic.
She nodded her chin, playing polite, but I could see tension tightening her jaw. "I know, Doctor. Annalise saved him.
I smiled, feigning being impressed, despite the taste of the name in my mouth. Annalise had been nothing but trouble - far too clever, far too independent, for an omega. There were other ways to get a grasp on her, however.
"Indeed, Annalise is… exceptionally talented." I let the compliment hover, making sure not to come across as insincere. "But talent may not be enough when a patient's politics are this… complicated."
That caught her attention. She turned fully to me now, interest piqued. I gave her a small, conspiratorial smile. Hook, line, sinker.
I'm certain there are things you'd want to know regarding his care — things that don't always make it onto the official chart." I lowered my voice, conspiratorial. "If you'd like, I could make sure you're… kept in the loop."
She hesitated, suspicion and curiosity warring in her expression. "Why would you do that?
I exhaled slowly, lowering my voice even more, as a man sharing an unpleasant truth. "Pack dynamics within this city aren't what they seem. I say less than I watch, and to be honest, I think Nicholas can use a friend in this hospital. Not everyone in this building shares the same sentiments."
It was vague. Intentionally so. Just enough to be truthful, enough to sound as if I was her best hope for a lifeline in an ocean of lies.
Her gaze broke away for a second — thinking, measuring. She wasn't as naive as most, but she was still young.
"I'll think about it," she said after a pause.
I smiled kindly, as though her answer had been nothing short of complete agreement. "Of course. I'll leave you to your thoughts."
Turning to go, I flung back over my shoulder, "I'm sure you'll find my tidings far more truthful than what some would try to feed you."
She had no response, but I didn't need her to — not yet. Seeds planted had their own timetable for blooming.
Besides, the closer I was to Emily, the closer I'd be to Nicholas. To Annalise.
And information, after all, was a far more valuable commodity than money in circumstances like these.