POV: LUCY

Aldric didn’t make my job easy.

Actually, that wasn’t fair.

He didn’t make my job possible.

I stood in front of him with my assessment notes in one hand while he sat exactly where I’d left him, his arms crossed as much as his body allowed, his expression communicating very clearly that he would rather be anywhere else.

“I’m going to need you to stand.”

“No.”

I looked at him.

He looked back.

“That’s not how an assessment works.”

“Then assess me sitting down.”

“I need to see how you distribute your weight.”

“I know how I distribute my weight.”

“You’re compensating.”

His jaw tightened.

“I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Yes. That’s the problem.”

He glared at me.

I ignored it.

“Stand.”

“No.”

“Alpha.”

“Beckett.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Ambrose, who had been sitting near the window pretending not to listen, finally sighed.

“You two are exhausting.”

“Tell your brother to cooperate.”

“Tell your employee to stop ordering me around.”

I turned toward Ambrose.

“Is he always like this?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.”

Aldric’s mouth twitched.

It was so quick I almost missed it.

Not a smile.

Not even close.

But something.

I filed it away.

“Fine,” I said. “You don’t have to stand.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“Really?”

“No. You’re going to stand anyway.”

His expression hardened.

I stepped closer and crouched beside his left leg.

“I’m going to assess the muscle response first.”

“I can do it myself.”

“I know.”

“I don’t need you.”

“I know that too.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because you hired me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Your sister did.”

“She doesn’t own me.”

“No.”

I looked up at him.

“But apparently she owns your schedule.”

Ambrose coughed behind us. Aldric gave her a murderous look. She smiled innocently. I turned my attention back to his leg.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re holding your entire body rigid.”

“That’s relaxed for me.”

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Instead, I placed my fingers against the muscle along the outside of his thigh. His entire body tensed.

There.

I felt it.

Not just tension.

Resistance.

The muscle wasn’t responding normally. It was firing late, then tightening too hard, almost as though it was trying to protect a pathway beneath it. I moved slightly higher. Aldric sucked in a breath.

I stopped.

“Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie.”

“You’re an alpha.”

“That doesn’t mean I lie.”

“It means you’re probably very good at pretending you’re not in pain.”

His eyes sharpened. I pressed lightly again. His fingers curled against the armrest.

There.

The reaction was immediate. I moved my hand away.

“What?”

He sounded annoyed.

“You have nerve recovery.”

He stared at me.

“What?”

“Your nerves aren’t the problem anymore.”

“That isn’t what the specialists said.”

“I know.”

“They told me the damage was permanent.”

“Some of it probably is.”

His expression darkened.

“Then what exactly are you saying?”

I stood and moved toward the other side of his body.

“The silver damaged your nerves and muscles at the same time. But wolves heal differently from humans. Your nervous system recovered faster than your muscle tissue.”

He frowned.

“That’s impossible.”

“No. It’s rare.”

I crouched again, studying the way his leg rested.

“The protocols used during your initial treatment were based largely on human recovery patterns. They expected the muscle and nerve tissue to recover at similar rates. But your nerves recovered first.”

“And?”

“And your muscles never caught up.”

He stared at me.

I touched the side of his thigh again, this time without applying pressure.

“Your nervous system is sending the signal.”

I moved my hand slightly.

“But the muscle is trapped in a compensatory pattern. It’s protecting itself because it doesn’t trust the movement anymore.”

His eyes remained fixed on me.

“So all those specialists missed this?”

“I don’t know what they missed.”

“You just said it.”

“I said I found something.”

“After seven specialists.”

“Yes.”

His expression changed.

Not softer.

More focused.

“What makes you think you’re right?”

“Because your body is telling me.”

I stood.

“And because I spent years studying this.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You said your research was used in the development of my medication.”

“Some of it.”

“You were that good?”

I shrugged.

“I was interested.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

I looked at him.

For a moment, something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.

Then he looked away.

“How much can you fix?”

There it was.

Not hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself that.

But curiosity.

I moved closer.

“I think I can reduce the pain.”

His eyes snapped back to mine.

“How much?”

“I don’t know.”

“Guess.”

I hesitated.

“Ten percent.”

He almost laughed.

“Ten percent?”

“Possibly more.”

“You’re telling me you can reduce my pain by ten percent after everyone else failed?”

“I’m telling you I can try.”

His gaze dropped toward his left side.

“And how?”

“There’s a muscle trapping part of the nerve pathway. I need to release it.”

“How?”

“It won’t be pleasant.”

His mouth twisted.

“I’m in pain every second of every day.”

“Yes.”

“So?”

I met his eyes.

“Not like this.”

Silence.

He knew I was serious.

I could see it in the way his jaw tightened.

“How painful?”

“Very.”

“How long?”

“The worst of it? Seconds.”

“And then?”

“Your body will heal.”

He gave me a cold look.

“You sound very confident.”

“I am.”

He leaned back.

“Do it.”

I blinked.

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

The answer came immediately.

“But do it anyway.”

I nodded.

“Ambrose, I need—”

“I’m leaving,” she said, already standing.

Aldric looked at her.

“I didn’t say you could.”

“You don’t get to order me around while I’m trying to keep you alive.”

His eyes narrowed.

She smiled.

“Try not to kill the physiotherapist.”

Then she left.

The door closed behind her.

I turned back to Aldric.

“Lie down.”

He did, though reluctantly, his movements stiff and awkward.

I adjusted his position as carefully as I could.

When my hands touched his leg, his body reacted instantly.

Pain.

Not just the pain I had expected.

Something deeper.

Older.

His muscles were fighting me before I’d even begun.

“I’m going to release the tissue around the nerve.”

“Just do it.”

I placed my hand against the damaged muscle.

“On three.”

“Don’t count.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

I nodded.

And pushed.

Aldric’s entire body jerked.

A sound tore from his throat.

Not a shout.

Something rawer.

His hand slammed against the armrest hard enough that the wood cracked beneath his fingers.

I didn’t stop.

“Stay with me.”

“Fuck—”

“Breathe.”

“Don’t tell me to breathe.”

“Then scream.”

He glared at me through clenched teeth.

I pushed deeper.

His body convulsed.

The muscle finally released.

Aldric gasped.

For one terrible second, nothing happened.

Then his entire left side shuddered.

I felt the tension disappear beneath my fingers.

His breathing became uneven.

I pulled my hands away.

“Don’t move.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

I sat back on my heels.

Aldric closed his eyes.

His chest rose and fell.

Once.

Twice.

Then slowly, his left hand moved.

Not much.

Just his fingers.

They straightened.

He opened his eyes.

He stared at his hand.

Moved it again.

His expression was unreadable.

“That’s new,” he whispered.

I stood.

“Try your leg.”

He hesitated.

Then he moved it.

Only a few inches.

But it moved differently.

Without the same resistance.

His face changed.

He looked at me.

“How much?”

I knew what he meant.

“Pain?”

He nodded.

I waited.

“Ten percent,” he said.

My heart lifted before I could stop it.

“That’s good.”

“No.”

His expression was still hard.

“But it’s something.”

He looked at me for another moment.

Then he said, “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“You’re going to make it better.”

I swallowed.

“I’ll do everything I can.”

“That wasn’t what I said.”

“Aldric—”

“I want more than ten percent.”

I smiled despite myself.

“How much?”

“All of it.”

“That might not be possible.”

“Then keep trying until you know it isn’t.”

I looked at him.

There was something in his eyes now.

Not hope.

Not yet.

But the smallest crack in the wall.

“I’ll keep trying.”

He nodded once.

Then his gaze sharpened.

“Why are you here?”

I frowned.

“I told you.”

“No. You told me you were qualified.”

“I am.”

“You’re overqualified.”

I didn’t answer.

“You’re not here because you need experience.”

“No.”

“You’re not here because you think rehabilitating me will look good on your résumé.”

“No.”

“You’re not here because I’m some fascinating challenge.”

“No.”

His eyes held mine.

“I know what people say about me. I know what this job is. I know I’m not anyone’s first choice.”

I stayed quiet.

“So why did you say yes before you even met me?”

I looked down at my hands.

There wasn’t much point in lying.

“My mother is sick.”

His expression didn’t change.

“She needs expensive medication. My sister and I have been taking whatever work we can find, but it isn’t enough.”

“And this job pays more.”

“Yes.”

“So it’s desperation.”

I looked back at him.

“Yes.”

He studied me.

Then something strange happened.

His nostrils flared slightly.

He took a slow breath.

“I can smell it.”

My stomach tightened.

“Smell what?”

“Desperation.”

He leaned back against the chair.

“And honesty.”

I stared at him.

“So you know I’m telling the truth.”

His eyes remained on mine.

“Yes.”

For the first time since I had walked through those doors, Alpha Aldric Thornback didn’t look at me like he wanted me gone.

He looked at me like he was trying to figure me out.

And somehow, that felt much more dangerous.