Page 27

"Ready," he says from his position.

I hold out my hand and Saanvi slaps the scalpel into it with the satisfying efficiency of someone who has done this ten thousand times.

"Music," I say.

A beat of silence from somewhere behind me. A moment later, Garth Brooks’ voice fills the room. Saanvi has begged me to find a new song, but Ain’t Going Down fits me perfectly. Plus, it’s been my intro song for every surgery I’ve ever taken lead on. Marco makes a sound that might be a suppressed laugh. I ignore him.

"Alright," I say. "Let's see what we've got."

The bleed is where I expected it to be. Grade three laceration, significant but manageable. I'm already deciding I'm going to repair rather than remove. It'll take longer but she's young and a spleen is worth fighting for if you have the skill to do it. Marco’s not there yet, but I am.

"Repair," I say, and I feel Saanvi nod without looking up.

We work. The music plays. By now, we’ve moved on to It Ain’t My Fault by Brothers Osborne. Saanvi actually likes this one.

Marco anticipates well and stays out of my way and tries to learn, which is all I ask of him.

And then—

I don't have a word for it, which is irritating because I like words and I love to talk. Something tickles at the edge of my awareness. It’s faint, almost nothing. I ignore it. Return my full attention to the repair.

It comes back. Warmer this time. Something underneath the surgical soap and the cold recycled OR air, underneath the neutralizer that should have made this impossible. My alpha knows it before my brain catches up.

I go very still. No one notices.

Mine.

The word ignites somewhere behind my sternum and suddenly I am not looking at a surgical site. I am looking at my table. My OR. My mate.

I look up.

Saanvi. Marco. The scrub tech, Jensen. Osei behind his drape. Four people standing over her, hands on her. Too close. All of them are too fucking close. My alpha catalogs every single one of them in the span of a single breath and does not like what it sees.

Jensen's eyes go wide above her mask. Marco takes a half step back.

"Dr. Sebastian." Saanvi says each word with care. Like she’s speaking to a wild animal. "Beck."

I hear her. Distantly. The way you hear things underwater. "Mine," I say.

At first, nobody moves. Then Jensen reaches to blot the field, and something rips through me so fast and so hot I don't even process it before the sound is already out. The growl bounces off every hard surface in the room. She freezes, hand suspended in the air.

"No one touches her." The words come from somewhere I don't even have a name for. "She's my mate."

Saanvi steps forward. Slowly. Hands slightly out. "Beck." Her tone is even. "Look at me."

I meet her eyes.

"You want her to live."

I nod.

"If you want her to live," she says again, quieter, "then you need every single person in this room. You need Jensen's hands. You need Marco. You need Osei keeping her under." She doesn't break eye contact. "Let us help you save her so you have your omega. That's the only way this works."

The words find the part of me that is still a surgeon. Still the best person in this room for what needs doing. Still the only one who can repair her spleen and give her back to herself. Give her back to me.

I breathe, deep and controlled. My alpha doesn't go anywhere, doesn't quiet, doesn't give me even an inch of detachment.

She needs us, I tell him. All of us.