Rise of the Banished She-Wolf Chapter 55

Evelyn

I darted through the hospital corridor, heart pounding in my chest. There wasn't a second to waste. Jack's life was hanging by a thread, and that silver fragment was inching closer to his heart with every beat.

"Prep OR three," I ordered, stripping off my wet clothes in the locker room. "And I need a complete silver extraction kit."

I took the fastest shower of my life, scrubbing the saltwater from my skin. In less than ten minutes, I was sterilized, dried, and changing into surgical scrubs. My mind raced through the procedure—I'd need to open his chest cavity, locate the fragment without touching it directly, and extract it before the silver poisoning spread further.

As I entered the pre-op area, I found a middle-aged man in scrubs blocking my path, arms crossed over his chest.

"You're the surgeon?" His tone dripped with disbelief. "You're a college student, for Christ's sake. Have you lost your mind?"

I met his gaze, unflinching. "I'm the only one here who can save him. That's a silver fragment in his chest cavity, and you're wasting precious time. Every second we waste arguing brings him closer to death."

The man scoffed. "This is absurd. I've been head of surgery for fifteen years—"

"Then you should know better." I cut him off, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Devon, I need a different surgeon.

Devon nodded and pulled the man aside as I continued my preparations. Through the glass, I could see Jack's pale face, his breathing shallow and irregular. Silver poisoning worked fast in werewolves—even faster in young ones like him.

Just as I was about to enter the OR, a commotion erupted in the hallway. A tall, broad-shouldered man in military fatigues burst through the doors, followed by Devon.

"This is Philip Swift, Jack's father," Devon explained. "He's brought someone who can help."

Behind Philip stood a serious-looking man in his forties, carrying a medical bag.

"This is Dr. Reeves," Mr. Swift said urgently. "He's a military surgeon... and one of us. He knows how to treat silver wounds."

I nodded, relieved to have backup. "Good. We need all the help we can get."

Inside the OR, I quickly established our roles. "I'll extract the silver fragment," I told Dr. Reeves. "You focus on repairing the damaged tissue. The silver's nearly reached his heart."

"Understood," he replied, watching me with curious eyes.

I made the first incision with steady hands. Blood welled up immediately, but I remained focused. The monitors showed Jack's heartbeat growing weaker.

"His BP's dropping," Dr. Reeves warned.

"I see it," I replied, working faster.

When I finally located the silver fragment, it was worse than I'd feared—a jagged piece had broken off and was floating dangerously close to a heart valve. Just as I maneuvered my instruments to grab it, Jack's heart stopped beating.

"Cardiac arrest!" Dr. Reeves announced.

Blood suddenly sprayed across my face as an artery ruptured, but I didn't flinch. I couldn't. Not now.

"I've got the fragment," I said, dropping the silver into a container. "Start compressions."

Dr. Reeves began CPR while I worked to repair the damaged vessels. When the heart still wouldn't restart, I made a split-second decision.

"Everyone stand back," I ordered.

I placed my palm directly over Jack's heart, concentrating intensely. A soft silver glow emanated from my hand, pulsing with energy. The room fell silent except for the steady beep of the monitors. Slowly, Jack's heart twitched once, twice, then began beating again.

Dr. Reeves stared at me, his eyes wide with astonishment. "How did you—"

"Let's finish closing him up," I interrupted. "He's not out of danger yet."

Three hours later, I stepped out of the OR, exhausted but satisfied. Jack would survive. Devon immediately rushed to my side, concern written across his face.

"He'll be okay," I assured him, my voice hoarse from fatigue.

Mr. Swift approached us, his face etched with relief and gratitude. "Thank you," he said, gripping my hand tightly. "Dr. Reeves told me what you did in there. Said he's never seen anything like it."

Devon squeezed my shoulder. "Evelyn comes from the Moonheal Pack. She's Isabel's granddaughter."

Mr. Swift's eyes widened in recognition. "Isabel's granddaughter? No wonder." He studied me with newfound respect. "I see it now—you have her eyes. The Moonheal Pack's healing abilities haven't been lost after all. Having a healer from Moonheal is an honor for all Seattle wolves."

I blinked, surprised. "You knew my grandmother?"

"Everyone knew Isabel," he replied with reverence. "Her pack produced the most skilled healers among all wolves. Your gift is rare, especially now."

Before I could respond, Lily appeared at the end of the hallway, pale and unsteady on her feet.

"Is Jack okay?" she asked weakly. "Can I see him?"

"He'll be fine," I assured her, "but you need to rest. You need fluids and sleep."

Mr. Swift turned to Lily. "This wasn't your fault," he said gently. "And thank you, Devon, for donating blood. Jack's lucky to have friends like you."

A booming voice from the hospital entrance shattered the peaceful moment.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

I turned to see an imposing older man storming toward us. His face was twisted with anger.

"A yacht party? At night? Are you trying to expose us all?" he shouted at Devon.

Without thinking, I stepped between them, my eyes flashing silver. "Don't blame Devon. It was an accident," I said firmly.

The older man froze, staring at me with a mixture of shock and confusion. "You... what are you?" he whispered, his eyes locked on mine.

I felt Devon's hand on my shoulder, pulling me back protectively, but I held my ground, meeting his gaze—eyes that bore a striking resemblance to Devon's.

Was this Devon's father? The Alpha King of the Seattle pack?