Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted novel Chapter 32

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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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

window that faces the mountains.

The soft click of the door opening pulls me from my observation, and I turn to see a young woman in scrubs entering the room, a clipboard in hand. She

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offers me a warm, reassuring smile as she approaches.

“Good evening, Ava,” she says, her voice gentle. “I’m Nurse Jenna. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

I manage a small nod in return, suddenly self–conscious under her attentive gaze. She begins checking my vitals, her movements deft and practiced, and I can’t help but marvel at how… normal it all feels. Almost like being in a human hospital.

Almost.

“How are you feeling?” Jenna asks, her brow creasing ever so slightly as she takes note of my various cuts and bruises. “Any dizziness? Nausea?”

I shake my head, finding my voice. “Just… sore,” I murmur, flexing my fingers gingerly. “And tired. And cold.”

Jenna nods, making a note on her clipboard. “That’s to be expected after what you’ve been through,” she says, her tone sympathetic. “We’ll get you something for the pain, and you can rest.”

Rest. The word is tantalizing.

“Let me finish a few more questions, dear. How old are

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you?”

I blink at Jenna’s question, feeling a flicker of uncertainty. “My age? I’m twenty.”