Rise of the Banished She-Wolf (Evelyn) novel Chapter 65

**Where Falling Leaves Whisper Stories Written In Silence by Ryn Jace Reed**

I was making my way back to Jack’s room when a cacophony of raised voices pierced the hospital’s usual tranquility. My heart quickened as I recognized the unmistakable shrillness of Jane Swift’s voice, echoing down the sterile corridor.

“This is your fault!” she shrieked, her finger jabbing accusingly at Lily, who stood frozen beside Olivia, both of them wide-eyed and taken aback. “My son is fighting for his life because of you! You are nothing but a disaster, a walking catastrophe for our family!”

I felt a wave of protectiveness wash over me as I witnessed the anguish etched on Lily’s face. Before Olivia could muster a response, I stepped in front of Jane, my voice steady and calm despite the tension.

“Mrs. Swift,” I began, choosing my words carefully. “I understand that you’re deeply concerned about Jack. But I assure you, he is stable now, and the surgery went well. This incident was an unfortunate accident, not anyone’s fault.”

Jane’s narrowed gaze shifted to me, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. “And who are you to tell me how to feel? Some college girl playing doctor?”

I met her challenging stare without flinching. “I’m the one who just removed the silver fragment from your son’s chest,” I replied evenly. “And I know enough about trauma to understand that venting your anger won’t aid Jack’s recovery.”

Just then, Philip Swift emerged from around the corner, his tall frame exuding a tense energy, yet his expression remained composed. “That’s enough, Jane,” he said quietly, but his voice carried an undeniable authority. “Our son is stable. This is not the time or the place for a scene.”

Jane’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her as she turned away, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.

In that moment, Mr. Pike burst through the hospital doors, his usually immaculate appearance disheveled and frantic. As soon as Lily spotted her father, she rushed into his arms, breaking down into tears.

“Daddy!” she sobbed against his chest, her small frame shaking with emotion.

Mr. Pike enveloped her in a comforting embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I came as soon as I heard,” he murmured soothingly.

Philip approached them, his expression softening as he regarded Mr. Pike. “I want to thank your daughter. She donated blood for Jack. Our family will always remember that.”

As Jane seemed to regain her composure, she took a step forward, her voice trembling slightly. “I apologize for my outburst. Jack’s accident is not Lily’s fault. I was… I was just scared.”

Feeling the weight of the moment, I quietly slipped away while they continued their conversation, making my way toward Jack’s room. Inside, the monitors beeped steadily, indicating his vitals were stable, yet a sense of unease crept over me as I examined his wound. The tissue surrounding the extraction site exhibited an unusual discoloration—something I had seen before, a sign of lingering silver toxicity.

“We need to initiate treatment with a silver neutralizing agent,” I informed Dr. Reeves, the attending physician, my voice firm with urgency.

“We’ve already administered the standard treatment,” Dr. Reeves replied, his brow furrowing in concern.

“It’s not sufficient,” I insisted. “I need you to send someone to the New York University lab. My mentor has developed a cutting-edge silver antidote. Just tell them Dr. Gray sent you—they’ll know what to provide.”

Dr. Reeves scrutinized me for a moment before nodding in agreement. “If your suggestion proves effective, it could significantly reduce Jack’s recovery time.”

Twenty minutes later, I found myself on the phone with my mentor, Dr. Maxwell Bennett.

“Three vials of silver antidote, Evelyn? Do you have any idea how much wolfsbane and moonstone extract that requires?” His voice was gruff, yet I could sense the familiar warmth he reserved for his most promising students.

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t crucial,” I replied earnestly. “The patient comes from a prominent family.”

“Swift, yes, I was informed. Very well, they’re on their way. But you owe me dinner next time I’m in Seattle,” he added with a hint of humor.

After hanging up, I turned to see Devon standing in the doorway, his face drawn and weary. My immediate attention was drawn to how he favored his left shoulder, a subtle indication that something was amiss.

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