Irina’s POV

The bell above the clinic door chimed.

I didn’t even look up from the intake forms. I just smiled, my hand effortlessly sorting the paperwork into the correct folders.

"Good morning," I said, my voice smooth and steady. "Dr. Vasquez will be right with you. Please, help yourself to some coffee."

It was automatic now. Natural.

Something had fundamentally changed inside me.

Before Luka was born, my body was a walking war zone. I was always exhausted. Always aching. My bones carried the deep, unhealed fractures from Maxim’s cruelty. My lungs always felt one breath away from panic. I was a fragile, broken thing just waiting to shatter.

Not anymore.

Ever since the meadow. Ever since my wolf came back to me.

She hummed a low, continuous rhythm beneath my ribs. It was a warm, powerful vibration of pure vitality.

I felt strong. It was a completely foreign, intoxicating sensation. I could stand behind the front desk for eight solid hours, and my back wouldn’t even twinge. I carried heavy boxes of medical supplies from the storage room to the exam rooms without breaking a single sweat. The dark, sunken hollows under my eyes had completely vanished. My pale skin finally had a healthy glow.

Even my senses were sharper. Much sharper.

I could hear a patient’s rapid, anxious heartbeat from all the way across the waiting room. I could smell the sharp, sour tang of fear or the heavy, metallic scent of pain before they even approached my desk.

I wasn’t a defenseless omega anymore. I was whole. I was healed. And I was fiercely protective.

A soft, happy gurgle broke my train of thought.

I turned around.

Luka was in his portable bassinet, tucked safely in the corner right behind my chair. He was wide awake, his tiny legs kicking the air. His deep, forest-green eyes—eyes that used to terrify me because they belonged to Nicholas, but now only brought me overwhelming peace—were fixed on a colorful mobile.

He was getting so big. And he was absolutely thriving.

Elena let me bring him to work every single day. It was an impossible kindness. Whenever the waiting room got too busy, Patricia would swoop in, scoop him up, and balance him effortlessly on her hip while answering the ringing phones. The patients adored him. He had quickly become the unofficial mascot of Vasquez Women’s Health.

I reached down and gently stroked his soft, chubby cheek.

He cooed, instantly grabbing my finger with his surprising, tiny strength.

*My perfect boy.*

My wolf purred in my mind. It was a heavy, satisfied sound. She was just as obsessed with him as I was.

"Excuse me?"

I looked up. A young woman was standing at the desk. She was heavily pregnant, her hands trembling violently as she gripped the strap of her purse. Her breathing was shallow and erratic. She was terrified.

My wolf stirred. A wave of calming energy rippled out from my chest. It wasn’t something I did on purpose. It was just instinct. My healing gift, bleeding out into the room.

"Hi," I said softly, standing up and moving around the desk. I didn’t ask for her insurance. I didn’t hand her a clipboard. I just guided her to the nearest chair. "Sit down. You’re safe here."

I sat next to her, letting my steady presence wrap around her panic. Within two minutes, her breathing slowed. The violent trembling in her hands stopped. She exhaled a long, shaky breath and finally let go of her purse.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking at me in awe. "I don’t know why I was so panicked."

"It’s okay," I smiled warmly. "We’ve got you."

When I stood back up, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

Elena was standing in the hallway doorway, a patient chart pressed against her chest. Her dark eyes were fixed directly on me.

"I’ll get her checked in," I told Elena, moving back behind the desk.

Elena didn’t move. She just watched me.

It wasn’t the clinical, calculating look she usually gave her patients. It was something else entirely. It was a look of deep, quiet admiration.

"You didn’t even touch her," Elena noted softly, her voice barely carrying over the hum of the air conditioner. "You just sat there. And her heart rate dropped by twenty beats a minute."

I froze slightly. My heightened senses were hard to hide sometimes.

"I just... I notice when people are scared," I deflected carefully, repeating the same vague excuse I had given her on my very first day. "I know how to sit with them."

Elena smiled. A slow, knowing, maternal smile. She didn’t push. She never pushed.

"You certainly do, Irina."

She turned and walked back into Exam Room Two.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur of ringing phones, filing cabinets, and baby bottles.

At five o’clock, the very last patient walked out the glass door. Patricia immediately locked the deadbolt, let out her dramatic, daily sigh of utter exhaustion, and grabbed her heavy purse from the back room.

"Goodnight, mama," Patricia said, leaning over the bassinet to gently tickle Luka’s tummy. "Goodnight, little prince. Don’t keep your mother up too late."

"See you tomorrow, Patricia," I smiled, waving as she slipped out the back door.

The clinic went perfectly quiet.

It was just me, Elena, and the baby.

Luka had finally fallen asleep after his afternoon bottle. I grabbed a bottle of disinfectant spray and started wiping down the front counter, moving with a steady, rhythmic energy. I wasn’t even tired. I felt like I could run five miles and still have breath to spare.

The soft click of Elena’s office door opening echoed loudly in the empty waiting room.

She walked out. She had taken off her white doctor’s coat. Her purse was already slung over her shoulder.

But she didn’t walk toward the exit. She walked deliberately over to the front desk and stopped right across from me.

I stopped wiping the counter. The rag hovered in my hand.

My heightened hearing caught the slight, sudden shift in her heartbeat. A slight acceleration. She was nervous. Or maybe just incredibly resolute.

"Elena?" I asked, suddenly hyper-aware of the silence stretching between us. "Is something wrong? Did I misfile one of the prenatal charts?"

"No, Irina. You didn’t misfile anything. Your paperwork is perfect."

She looked at me. She really looked at me. Her dark, intelligent eyes scanned my face, taking in the healthy flush of color in my cheeks, the absolute steadiness in my hands, the calm, proud way I held my shoulders now.

She took a deep, steadying breath.

"I have something I need to say to you," she said. Her voice was gentle, but it carried an undeniable weight.

I put the rag down on the counter. My stomach did a tiny, anxious flip.

"Okay," I said quietly, bracing myself instinctively.

She looked down at Luka, sleeping peacefully in his bassinet. Then she looked back up at me.

"Irina, I don’t think you should stay here anymore."