Tangled

32 Ava: Omega? (V)

I study the large, imposing building as we approach, my brow furrowing slightly. The sleek, modern architecture is striking, but it’s the logo that catches my eye–a stylized wolf’s head, rendered in shades of gray,

“This is one of our pack’s facilities,” Clayton explains, no doubt noticing my curiosity. “A hospital, of sorts.”

A hospital run by shifters? The concept is as unsettling as it is intriguing. I can’t help but wonder what sort of medical practices they employ here, how different they might be from human hospitals.

Clayton ushers me through the ambulance bay, and I can’t resist glancing around, taking in the flurry of activity. Nurses and orderlies bustle about, their movements crisp and efficient. For a moment, it all seems so… normal. Like any other hospital.

But then I catch a glimpse of a patient being wheeled by on a gurney, and I suck in a sharp breath. His face is twisted in agony, body contorting unnaturally–no

doubt the result of an uncontrolled shift. A stark

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32 Ava: Omega? (V)

reminder that this place is anything but ordinary.

We step into an elevator, and Clayton punches the button for one of the upper floors. As the doors slide shut, I find myself keeping close to him, seeking reassurance in his steady presence. It’s like an aura around him that keeps me calm.

The ride is mercifully brief, and soon we’re stepping out onto a hushed hallway, our–footfalls clacking away on the tile, echoing around us. Clayton leads me to a private room, the door ajar.

“You’ll be comfortable here,” he says, his deep voice a low rumble. “One of our nurses will be in shortly to check on you.”

“Thank you.” I slip into the room, sinking gratefully onto the edge of the neatly made bed. Clayton leaves once I’m settled, and it’s as if I’m drained the moment

he walks away.

The room is spartan and sterile, but it has a large

faces the

the door opening pulls me from my observation, and I turn to see a young woman in scrubs entering the room, a clipboard

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Omega?

reassuring

voice gentle. “I’m Nurse Jenna. I’ll

deft and practiced, and I can’t help but marvel

Almost.

Jenna asks, her brow creasing ever so slightly as she takes

sore,” I murmur, flexing my fingers gingerly. “And tired.

be expected after what you’ve been through,” she says, her tone sympathetic. “We’ll get you something

word

few more questions, dear. How old

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you?”

at Jenna’s question, feeling a flicker of uncertainty.

the paper.

blink at

of surprise in her expression, but she schools her features quickly. “Heat cycles? When a female shifter goes into heat–when she becomes fertile and

creeping up my neck.

a second, I forgot that I was

bed, acutely aware of the dull aches all over my body. “This… this

time.”

Jenna’s brows lift, but she

curious. Professional. “I see. And have you noticed any

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recently? Increased

head. “No, nothing like that. I feel

note

“We’ll have to monitor you closely, then. It’s rare,

niggles at the back of my