Chapter 6 Hidden Pasts

Ethan

"Do it," I told her without hesitation, putting my future into this woman's hands.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than Dr. Richards barged in, his thin face twisted in smug satisfaction.

"I knew she couldn't do it, Alpha. I'm prepared to amputate the leg."

"You will do no such thing," I growl, my patience gone. "She's helping me regrow the bone. Get out of my operating room."

"Alpha, I must insist—"

"What you must do is listen to your Alpha. Get out!"

Dr. Richards retreats, though not without a final glare at Grace.

As Alpha, I've faced my share of battles and broken bones. But lying here on this cold operating table while my little doctor works on my shattered leg is a special kind of torture. Not because of the physical pain—I can handle that—but because I can't take my eyes off her.

Dr. Grace Montgomery. My mate.

The thought still sends a jolt through me every time it crosses my mind. After years of searching, of wondering if she even existed, here she is—stitching my broken body back together while muttering to herself as if I can't hear every word.

"This is insane... completely broken... stubborn Alpha... needs proper anesthesia..."

I can't help but smile through the pain. Her habit of talking to herself is oddly endearing. Most wolves learn to guard their thoughts, their expressions—especially around an Alpha. But not Grace. Her face is an open book, emotions playing across her features without restraint. It's refreshing as hell.

What fascinates me most is how she doesn't try to impress me. Most females would be preening, trying to catch my attention. Instead, she seems determined to keep her distance—precisely because I'm Alpha.

"Dr. Montgomery is slowly and painfully putting me back together, which is better than Dr. Richards' plan to remove my leg," I say, turning my attention to my Beta who's hovering nearby.

Jackson shifts his weight. As Beta, he would take over if I were incapacitated. "Are you at least numb?" he asks with genuine concern.

"Completely ridiculous Alpha," Grace mutters, clearly thinking we can't hear.

"Does she know we can hear her?" Jackson asks through our mind link.

"Evidently not," I reply, amused.

Aloud I answer, "No, no anesthesia."

Jackson smirks. "I might agree with her assessment."

I ignore his comment and get down to business. "Report on Kane. Did you kill him?"

Jackson's expression darkens. "He retreated to his pack. We knew there were traps, so we didn't cross his boundary."

"What kind of traps?" Grace asks, not looking up from my leg. "Shadow."

I feel my wolf stir at her command, ready to aid in the healing. It's odd how readily Shadow responds to her, already calling her "mate" with a reverence I've never heard from him before.

"Spring-loaded wooden stakes buried underground," Jackson answers her.

Grace's hands remain steady, but her disapproval is clear in her scent. "Stupid Pack Wars, killing for no reason," she mutters.

I watch her work, fascinated by how she coaxes Shadow to heal my bones from within. Her methods are unlike anything I've seen before—a blend of modern medicine and instinctive wolf healing that even Dr. Richards couldn't match.

Jackson leans closer, eyes wide with wonder. "Holy shit! That's fucking amazing!"

"I know, right?" Grace flashes him a friendly smile.

Before I can stop myself, a low growl rumbles from my chest. The sight of her smiling at another male—even my trusted Beta—triggers something primal in me.

Jackson immediately tilts his head, exposing his neck in submission. But Grace's reaction is entirely different. She freezes, then fixes me with a glare that would make lesser wolves cower.

"I am your doctor. Temporarily. If you don't want me to walk out and let Dr. Richards amputate your leg, I suggest you don't pull that crap while my hands are inside your crushed leg."

Her boldness stuns me into silence. No one speaks to me like that—not even Jackson. But instead of anger, I feel a surge of admiration.

"We did receive disturbing news," Jackson says, changing the subject.

"What news?"

"Alpha William Blackthorn is dead. Blake is Alpha now."

The effect on Grace is immediate and profound. Her steady hands freeze completely. Color drains from her face as if someone had pulled a plug.

"No... that's not... he can't be..." she whispers, her voice so faint I can barely hear it despite my enhanced senses.

Her scent spikes with a cocktail of emotions so intense it makes my nostrils flare—raw fear, gut-wrenching grief, and something that smells like... guilt? There's history there—significant history—and I need to know what it is.

For a moment, I think she might faint. The jade of her eyes darkens as they fill with unshed tears.

"William promised he'd be safe..." she mutters, seemingly unaware she's speaking aloud. "He promised Blake wouldn't... oh god."

"I'm sorry, Alpha. I need a break." She strips off her gloves with trembling fingers and hurries from the room before I can stop her.

"Follow her," I order Jackson. "Don't approach, but make sure she doesn't leave."

When she returns, her face is composed but her scent still betrays her emotional turmoil.

She carefully repositions a particularly jagged bone fragment, and suddenly I feel a sharp, blinding pain shoot through my entire body. I can't suppress the roar that tears from my throat.

"Shit!" Grace exclaims, her hands now covered in fresh blood. "An artery nicked on the bone edge. Shadow, I need you now!"

My vision blurs as blood gushes from the wound. The metallic scent fills the room as my heart pumps more life fluid onto the table.

"The femoral artery's been punctured," Grace says, her voice suddenly calm and commanding despite the crisis. "I need pressure here, and I need Shadow to focus on sealing this vessel while I work."

I feel Shadow surge forward in my consciousness, responding to her urgent call. Through the pain, I'm amazed at how quickly she's adapted—giving orders to my wolf as if she's been doing it for years.

"Come on, Shadow," she murmurs, her blood-slicked fingers working with incredible precision. "Seal it from inside... that's it..."

The bleeding slows, then stops. Grace's face is splattered with my blood, her expression intense with concentration.

"Got it," she breathes finally.

"Alpha," Jackson says as he returns to the room. His expression is grim, his scent laced with tension. "We have a visitor at the border."

"Who?" I ask.

"Alpha Blake Blackthorn requests an audience. He says it's about a member of his pack who's gone missing."

I hear Grace's breath catch, the scalpel in her hand trembling slightly. A single drop of blood—my blood—falls from the instrument to the floor.

Her scent shifts again—fear, anxiety, and something else I can't quite identify. I look at her rigid posture, at the way her knuckles have turned white around the medical instrument.

"She's hiding something," Shadow growls in my mind. "Something about Blake Blackthorn."

I watch her carefully, pieces of a puzzle starting to form in my mind. What is her connection to the Blackthorn Pack? Why does Blake's name strike such terror in her? And most importantly—is Blake's sudden appearance at my border truly a coincidence, or has he somehow discovered that she's here?