Page 82 of Alpha's Rejected Warrior
Chapter 31 — Ethan
Rhiannon doesn’t give me a choice about seeing Dr. Olcan. She marches me straight to the infirmary, those golden-brown eyes daring me to argue. I don’t. Partly because she’s right — the ache in my ribs has graduated to a sharp, stabbing sensation with each breath.
Once Dr. Olcan takes over, Rhiannon leaves to brief Xander on what happened. I watch her go, fighting the urge to call after her and ask her to stay.
Dr. Olcan patches me up with his usual supernatural speed. The pain-reducing liquid he gives me tastes like battery acid with a hint of mint, but within minutes, the worst of the pain dulls into a manageable ache.
Leaving the infirmary twenty minutes later, I’m still thinking about Rhiannon’s hand on my ribs, our heartbeats falling into the same rhythm, like they belonged together.
For a second, I let myself wonder what it means. Maybe it’s proof of a connection between us — one she feels too.
Then, reality crashes back down on me. I was riding a survival high, and she was just checking for broken ribs. My desperate brain wants to spin it into some cosmic bond.
Pathetic.Like I need to manufacture evidence that she cares about me when she’s made it crystal clear where we stand: Whatever we have is purely professional from now on.
She sure pulled away fast enough, didn’t she? Retreated straight back into Commander-mode. Like it never happened. Likewenever happened.
I push these thoughts aside. Whatever happened between us — or whatever I imagined happened — won’t change anything. She’ll still keep me at arm’s length. We’re just colleagues who had each other’s backs in a dangerous situation.
Besides, I’ve got bigger problems to deal with. Such as, what the fuck just happened to Jayme?
The investigation is more than likely over. I can’t imagine how it could possibly go any other way after what we’ve just seen, especially with the pressure from the Shaman.
Honestly, if I hadn’t been right there when Jayme changed, I’d still have a hard time believing he was the one who attacked Haron and Holden. I haven’t been around Lycan for long, but I can’t shake the feeling that what happened to Jayme isn’t Lycan behavior, even in extreme circumstances. The way his eyes went white and he transformed without any provocation or self-control, it was like a switch had been thrown.
I’m halfway back to my quarters when voices catch my attention. Conan and Akila round the corner.
“There you are.” Akila’s usual brightness is dimmed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I picked a fight with a freight train and lost.” I manage a weak grin.
“Ah, but you won!” Conan says with a grin. “And you’re just the human we’ve been looking for.”
“What do you need?” I ask.
Conan exchanges a glance with Akila. “We just heard from one of the guards that Branson’s been placed under house arrest.”
The words take a moment to register. “Wait, what? Since when?”
“Since this afternoon, apparently.” Akila crosses her arms, her brow furrowing. “Which doesn’t make any sense. He didn’t do anything but help when Jayme lost it on us, and no one’s said anything about why.”
I think back to the dungeon. Branson appeared out of nowhere when the alarm sounded, subdued Jayme with that pressure-point move, then disappeared without a word. At the time, I’d been too focused on not passing out to question it.
“That’s weird, right?” I look between them. “I mean, he did help us with Jayme. Do they think he had something to do with the attacks?”
“Only one way to find out,” Conan says.
We make our way through the winding corridors to Branson’s quarters. A younger guard is posted outside the door, standing at attention with the rigid posture of someone taking their assignment very seriously.
He’s probably a few years younger than me, with the kind of fresh-faced earnestness that suggests he hasn’t been in the Alpha’s Guard for very long. The moment he spots us approaching, his entire body goes rigid, his spine straightening to an almost painful-looking degree. His hand moves instinctively toward the weapon at his belt, fingers hovering just above the hilt in a gesture that’s more reflexive than truly threatening.
Conan shakes his head. “Relax, kid.”
Akila steps forward. “We need to speak with Branson.” As Second Commander, she outranks him by a mile.
The guard hesitates, then nods and steps aside.
Conan snorts. “Like that kid could actually stop Branson if he decided to leave.”
