The door opens softly.
A man walks in wearing dark blue scrubs and soft-soled shoes. Forties, maybe early fifties. His ID badge says he’s a Beta.
He doesn’t ask how I feel, just checks the monitor. Glances at the IV. Then moves to the computer in the room and begins typing, his eyes flicking between the screen and whatever vitals he’s logging.
Once he’s done, he turns and rests his back against the counter near the sink, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m Dr. Hassan.” His gaze stays level. “I’m the one overseeing your case for now.”
I swallow hard. “Hello.”
He studies my face for a beat.“You’ve been unconscious for about twelve hours. We stabilized you overnight. You’re not a hundred percent, but we reversed the liver failure. You’re lucky it wasn’t more acute.”
My throat rasps when I try to speak again.
He grabs a cup and some water before he brings it and raises the bed so I can sit up and drink and then sets the cup back on the tray.“Do you remember anything before you collapsed?”
“I was at the hockey arena.”
He nods. “Your bloodwork confirmed suppressant toxicity from pills and topical spray; you’ve got contact rashes at all scent-gland sites. We’ve treated them with a topical cream and as long as you leave them alone, they should be gone in two days.”
I shift, the ache spreading from my head down to my toes.
Dr. Hassan continues, “Your hormone levels are wrecked. Your body couldn’t function like it’s meant to for far too long.You’re in hormonal crisis. That’s what caused the collapse.” He doesn’t sugarcoat it.
I frown. “Is the damage permanent?”
He shakes his head. “No. But continued use would’ve resulted in full liver failure. Possibly neurological damage. Eventually, you would’ve died.”
My fingers twist in the blanket. I feel stupid for ignoring the signs, but I was desperate to keep my life how it was. “Am I being charged? I know they’re illegal.”
He turns and crosses the room to a nearby cabinet. Opens it, pulls out a folder, and returns to my side. He sets the folder within reach, flipping it open to the first page. It outlines the laws around the suppressant.
“You’ll be fined. But not prosecuted. An Omega Protection Program case worker will reach out with the information about that and what your options are once you’re discharged. A lot of times, the fine gets dropped if you give up your supplier. We’re trying to get this stuff off the street for this reason.”
He huffs like a disappointed father. “The priority now is getting your body regulated.”
Flipping to another page, he points. “This is your recovery plan. Along with online sources, so you can learn what to expect from others like you. You’ll meet with our endocrinologist tomorrow morning. He’ll be able to explain better than I can.”
I look at the folder but don’t touch it.
Stepping back, he sighs again, this time softer. “This will take time. But you’re not broken.”
I blink up at him. “Is anyone here with me?”
“Let me check your notes. I wasn’t the doctor who admitted you.” He goes back to the computer and clicks around. “Your mother is your listed emergency contact. We reached her. She’s three states away and said she’ll come if absolutely necessary.”
My stomach turns. We haven’t spoken in ten years. I only put her down as my emergency contact because I had no one else. I guess she’s made it clear she still wants nothing to do with me. The feeling is mutual.
He hums as he stares at the screen. “We have four Alphas here, who arrived with you. They haven’t left the hospital once.”
Something in my chest pulls tight. “They’re here?”
He nods. He folds his arms again, watching my reaction closely. “They say they’re your scent-matched pack. But we didn’t find bonding marks on you. If you don’t want them around, we’ll have security escort them out.”
I freeze. “Please don’t do that. We are scent-matched. I didn’t think they knew.”
He nods. He takes a breath before continuing. “You’re not cleared to see them physically until your system stabilizes. You’re too reactive right now. But we can set up a video call.”
He walks around the side of the bed and pulls down a small monitor from the arm mounted above me and adjusts the angle so I won’t have to move much. “I’ll make sure they get access on their end. When you get the call, just hit accept. That’s all you’ll have to do.”
