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“Yes.” The woman on the line clears her throat. “I’m trying to reach Dr. Harrington. His phone’s going to voicemail, and I can’t get through on the house line. You’re listed as his emergency contact. It’s crucial that I reach him,” she rushes out.
Max, with his alpha hearing, slowly turns to look at me. Oh, now he decides to pay attention?
“Put it on speakerphone,” he demands.
Pushy bastard. The only—and I mean the only—reason I’m even following his orders is because I’m his emergency contact. Weirdly, that gives me all the warm fuzzies.
“Is Dr. Harrington there?” the woman on the phone asks. Her voice a little stronger, sounding a lot like the receptionist at the institute.
“I’m here, Melody. What’s up?” Max replies, confirming it is her. He continues to clean the stranger’s wound without a hint of hesitation. The guy is a beast in so many ways, always utterly calm in any storm. I once saw him catch a child who fell off a bleacher midair, then set them down without breaking stride in his conversation.
I can’t help but resent him a bit for it, me being a whirlwind of chaos and emotion.
“Yes, oh, thank the Fates. Max, we have a problem,” she says, pausing.
Problem? She just called him Max like they are old buddies.A bit too cozy with our resident doctor, aren’t we, Melody?
Max, feeling my intense stare, blinks dully at me before returning to his task. “Spit it out, Melody. I’m in the middle of something here.”
“Well, that’s just it, so are we,” she whispers, her voice tinged with urgency that sets me on edge.
“Where’s Grace, Melody?” I interject, a storm of nerves building inside me.
“There’s been an incident,” she replies, her voice tight.
Max’s only sign of distress is his repetitive swallowing, but he threads the hooked needle with expert precision. “Explain,” he demands, his voice eerily calm.
“Well, you see, Ms. Cicero and Grace?—”
Unable to contain my emotions, I interrupt, “What was Thea doing with Grace?” I need to move, to pace, feeling restless.Setting the phone down on the table near the woman’s head, I begin to walk back and forth. Staying still is impossible—not with all hell breaking loose and us caught in the middle of a blizzard.
“Of course, yes, well... Last night, we had a blizzard meeting with the resident staff. The patients have been anxious, not really used to blizzards, so we thought some comfort was in order.” I can almost picture Melody twisting her fingers nervously as she speaks. Meanwhile, Max doesn’t miss a beat, continuing to stitch the woman’s wound. “Dorothea and Grace both passed a mental stability test, and we decided to let them bunk together. It was Thea’s idea.”
I just fucking bet it was.
Pausing, I curl my lip into a snarl, glaring at the phone. “That’s complete bullshit,” I mutter. Grace hasn’t passed a single test since they started implementing them. Her mind is too fractured. And Thea? She’s nothing but a ticking time bomb of instability, likely manipulating the tests to appear normal.
Is that what happened? Did they trick the tests?
“Impossible,” Max states flatly, not pausing in his work. He’s been Grace’s physician since he first stepped into the institute.
“I assure you, Grace passed the detector, and it flashed green,” Melody insists. “She’s even been talking.”
“Talking?” Max glances at the phone briefly before returning to his work. “Let me speak to her.”
“That’s the problem, Doctor. They are missing,” she explains slowly, as if we’re children.
My heart sinks, and a lump forms in my throat. Grace spoke? My gaze shifts between Max and the phone.
“Email me the security footage, now,” Max demands, the picture of composure. Fine, he can play it cool. I’ll be the chaos to his calm, and I’m not scared to unleash my crazy side.
“Yes, sir,” Melody replies softly. “The medication you created is effective. Many of the patients are having longer bouts of lucidity.” She sighs, sounding dreamy and likely unaware that Max is nearly mated.
“That’ll be all,” Max says, glancing at me. I promptly hang up on Melody.
Silence lingers heavily in the room until Ashton and Devlin return to the kitchen, their faces ghostly pale. “She locked us out,” Ashton mutters, sinking into a chair. Through our bond, I sense his deep grief, convinced we’ve lost our girl, but I can’t accept that. Having left her once, I’m determined not to make that mistake again.
“You two are grown men,” Max snaps, a hint of anger in his voice. “Break the fucking door down.”
