Defy The Alpha(s) novel Chapter 388

Chapter 388: Escaped

A young werewolf lay face-down on the table while overhead, surgical lights glared down on him, white and blinding. His wrists and ankles were strapped tightly to the padded restraints.

He was barely conscious, his breath coming in shallow rasps, and his pupils sluggish from the sedative coursing through his system. His spine, however, remained fully exposed, a concise incision running along the lower vertebrae, held open by retractors.

Patrick hovered over the boy with such calm that could unnerve death itself.

"Vitals?" he asked without looking up.

"Stable. BP 112 over 74. Heart rate holding at 58," one of the assisting surgeons replied from the monitors.

"Good. Suction probe."

A second surgeon placed the long, narrow spinal aspirator into Patrick’s gloved hand who held it like an artist cradling his finest brush. The tip was fine, needle-thin, designed to pierce the subarachnoid space without severing any critical nerve branches. One mistake, and the boy would seize, or worse, flatline. But he wasn’t known for mistakes, having performed this procedure several times.

He leaned in closer, his eyes magnified through the loupe visor, the lens attached to the headlight rig strapped over his surgical cap. Every muscle in the room tensed with him as the aspirator descended toward the spinal canal.

The first puncture was clean with barely a bead of blood and the suction tube filled slowly, and steadily, with the pale fluid.

"Harvesting cerebrospinal sample," Patrick murmured, his voice mechanical.

This was Ignis in its rawest form.

The machine monitoring the werewolf vitals let out a warning beep as the heart rate spiked briefly before settling again. Through it all, Patrick barely blinked.

"Almost there..." he whispered, adjusting the suction dial by a hair’s breadth.

But there was a bang and the door slammed open, the metal crashing against the wall with such force one of the retractors slipped slightly. The startled patient let out a muffled moan, still too drugged to thrash, but aware enough to feel it.

Patrick froze.

"Goddamn it!" one of the surgeons muttered under his breath.

Patrick didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Only one person would dare interrupt him mid-harvest and expect to leave with their life intact.

Cynthia.

"We have a problem," she said breathlessly, her words rushed.

Patrick slowly pulled the aspirator free from the boy’s spine, careful not to waste a single drop of fluid. He handed it off to the assistant without a word, then peeled off his gloves with a slick snap. The surgical mask came off next, and was followed by the visor.

Patrick turned to her with a cold expression. "If you were anyone else, you’d be waking up intubated."

"But I’m not," she said, stepping fully into the room, unbothered by the bloody surgical scene. "And I wouldn’t be here if it could wait."

Patrick gave a curt nod to the team. "Close him up. Keep him sedated. Mark this one batch Omega-four-seven. I want it processed in the next hour."

"Yes, Doctor."

Patrick stripped off the gown, tossing it aside as he walked toward Cynthia, now in his black undershirt, a splash of the boy’s blood still dotting the collar. His eyes were razor sharp as they left.

"Talk to me." Patrick said as they stepped into a private room.

She didn’t hesitate. "They have captured the girl."

"And that isn’t good news?"

"They have Griffin Hale too." Cynthia announced and Patrick halted at once.

For the first time, Patrick’s composure faltered. He asked, body taut. "What did you just say?"

"They took Griffin," Cynthia repeated. "He was with Violet when the rogues made their move."

A vein pulsed at Patrick’s temple.

"That’s impossible. Asher was supposed to be with her!" he snapped. "And I gave a direct order, take the girl only! Goddamn it!"

Patrick ran a hand over his face, pacing, his teeth grinding. Had he known this would go down like this, he never would’ve made such a hasty move.

He had been watching Violet for a long time now. A girl like her didn’t go unnoticed, especially not by him.

When he found out Asher had gone to District One, Patrick hadn’t needed a psychic to figure it out. Asher’s trip had everything to do with Violet Purple. Her name alone raised questions, but it was her appearance that sealed it. That purplish-black hair wasn’t human. It wasn’t normal.