Luan's Wolf

1. Mystery Patient

They arrived in the middle of the night.

Screeching tires on the driveway woke me up with a start, and when I looked outside through my bedroom window, I knew something was terribly wrong. I slipped into my shirt and jeans and ran down the stairway barefoot. I was just in time to catch my mother rushing inside. She grabbed me by the upper arms in the passing, her blue eyes wide in shock.

"River! Good, you're awake," she greeted me, sounding as bewildered as she looked. "Prepare the East wing for a patient. Hurry!"

"Okay, Mom. On my way."

I turned and made a beeline for Dad's office to retrieve the keys.

There were about a million questions buzzing inside my head. Who was in that car? Why had they arrived in the middle of the night, and what on earth had happened to the new patient that we placed him in the isolated East wing?

This was not the time for questions, however.

Keys in hand, I rushed up the stairs leading to the East wing. I unlocked the thick double doors, and with a groan in effort pushed them both open.

Despite this part of the castle being in disuse most of the time, Mom and Dad insisted we kept it clean and ready. The living room area was fully furnished and decorated. Silver statues of wolves on the fireplace sparkled in the light of the chandelier lamp on the ceiling, and fresh flowers and plants adorned the living area. One could immediately move in. No further actions were needed, aside from making the bed.

I walked straight through to the adjacent bedroom, fetched fresh linen from the closet, and made the twin bed.

I finished just in time.

While I patted the head pillows to fluff them as a final touch, there were hurried footsteps in the living area. Two male strangers carried an unconscious third man into the room. With their tall, muscular physiques, all three of them looked like high ranked pack warriors. Their scars showed their ample battle experience.

I bowed my head to pay my respect to them, but neither man took kindly to it.

"Move," one of the warriors ordered me gruffly with a disdainful glare, and I all but leapt out of the way, letting the two men carefully place the unconscious one on the bed.

He was heavily injured.

I smelled the metallic scent of blood thick in the air, overpowering all other scents in the room. He'd been bitten several times on his arms and legs. His face was scratched open. There was dried blood, sand, and mud hiding his features, even caking his dark hair.

The wounds were deep, but given that he looked like a strong, healthy werewolf, they would heal rapidly. The wounds weren't what concerned me. What concerned me was the reason this man had earned himself a place in the East wing. He would not be placed here for injuries sustained in battle alone. What else was wrong with him?

A few moments later, Dad stormed into the room. He wore his white doctor's coat. It was not a necessary dress code for medical staff in our castle, but Dad told me it often helped give him some kind of authority. Pack warriors could be aggressive sometimes, especially if they disagreed with a treatment.

I could not wait to earn the right to wear my own doctor's coat. Especially if it helped not to be treated like dirt under a boot.

Contrary to how the warriors had treated me, they immediately bowed their heads for my dad, and stepped aside to give the chief doctor of the sanctuary space.

While Dad bent over the injured man in the bed and checked his vitals, one of the warriors, the taller and broader one of the two, gave me the stink eye.