Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109

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Chapter 109

Chapter 109

BIANCA

The trauma bay was never quiet at noon.

That was something they didn’t tell you in medical school. Noon brought the accidents: construction injuries, kitchen mishaps, the particular foolishness of people who believed they were invincible in broad daylight.

I moved through it with the efficiency of someone who’d found, after months of BloodMoon General shifts, that the work was the one place my mind stayed fully quiet.

Which was exactly what I needed today.

“Dr. Morrison.” A nurse appeared at my elbow, tablet extended. “Bed three is asking about discharge. And we have incoming from an MVA, ETA six minutes.”

“Tell bed three I’ll be there in two minutes.” I finished my notation on the current chart without looking up. “And get trauma two prepped for the MVA. What are we working with?”

“Male, mid–forties, magical stabilization failure during transformation. Partial shift locked, losing circulation to his left arm.”

I handed the tablet back. “Get me a full magical resonance kit. And someone call orthopedics as backup–if the circulation issue has been prolonged, we might be looking at surgical intervention.”

The nurse moved. I moved. The choreography of emergency medicine, which asked nothing of me except competence and speed.

This was what I loved about trauma. Its absolute immediacy. The way it collapsed every competing thought into a single, urgent

now.

–

I dealt with bed three- -a young woman who’d taken a curse fragment to the shoulder trying to break up a fight between her brothers, stabilized and ready to go home with a care plan and strict instructions. I sent her off with her mother hovering anxiously and turned to meet the MVA patient as the paramedics rolled him in.

The partial shift was immediately apparent. His left arm had frozen mid–transformation, the bone structure caught between human and wolf, the muscles and tendons fighting contradictory magical commands. His face was gray with pain and oxygen deprivation.

“Talk to me,” I said, positioning my hands to feel the magical signature.

“Started transforming, got interrupted,” the paramedic rattled off. “Tried to reverse but couldn’t complete it. That was forty minutes ago.”

Forty minutes of impaired circulation. My jaw tightened.

“I need everyone to give me space,” I said, not loudly but in the tone that cleared rooms. “And I need quiet. This extraction is going to require focus.”

The team had learned in the months I’d been here that when I asked for quiet, I meant it. The trauma bay settled into a careful hush, everyone moving to their positions at the back.

I pressed my hands just above the frozen joint, feeling for the competing magical frequencies.

Find the baseline. My mother’s voice, patient and clear, from a thousand practice sessions in a kitchen that smelled like herbs and old books. Everything else is interference. Find what was there before the magic went wrong and work from that.

I found it. A warm, steady signature, wolt–native and familiar, currently buried under layers of competing spells like a signal lost in static.

Chapter 109

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“Sir,” I said quietly, keeping my voice even so I didn’t break my own concentration. “I need you to try to stop fighting it. I know that’s counterintuitive. But you’re adding your own effort on top of two conflicting magical commands, and it’s making this harder. If you can relax–just for a moment-”

“Easy for you to say,” he managed through clenched teeth.

“I know. But trust me for sixty seconds.”

He exhaled, a shuddering breath, and I felt the moment his resistance eased.

There. The path cleared slightly, the two competing signals jostling against each other without a third force complicating them. I introduced a counter–frequency carefully, not overriding either existing signal but threading between them, finding the gap

where his natural state could reassert itself.

It was like tuning a radio in heavy interference. Delicate adjustments. Patience.

The locked joint shuddered, then began to shift.

“That’s good,” I murmured, more to myself than him. “Keep breathing. Don’t try to help.”

Three minutes of careful work, and the arm completed its return to human configuration with a sound that made two of the nurses wince. The man let out a long, ragged breath.

Color flooded back into his hand almost immediately.

“Circulation is returning,” James called from the monitoring station, his voice carrying relief. “Good movement. No apparent permanent damage.”

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