Chapter 1 - Maisie

I adjust the bandage on Jackson’s arm, my fingers working quickly as I secure the edges. I could do this in my sleep.

Today has been quiet in precisely the way I like the most, but somehow, I can’t appreciate it. The clinic is almost deserted today, with just a few patients trickling in and out. Most are here to pick up prescriptions or have routine blood tests, and a couple, like this one, with minor injuries from sparring or misadventures at the bottoms.

Sunlight streams through the large windows, casting a warm glow across the wooden floors. The smell of antiseptic mixes with the faint, earthy scent of sage and pine that always seems to linger here.

Engrossed in my work, I let myself breathe in the stillness, consciously filling my lungs all the way up. It’s a rare kind of peace, one I don’t often get in the middle of a shift. I look outside to where the trees sway gently in the afternoon breeze, and I try to soak in the quiet before the chaos inevitably returns.

It’s been the better part of five years since I found myself in Rosecreek, but this town is only now starting to feel like home. I arrived as an outsider—a nurse from a far-off pack who didn’t know what to do with someone like me. I don’t speak to my family much anymore. There was no dramatic fall-out because my family just isn’t like that; we simply don’t speak. I was the youngest of eight siblings once upon a time, and whatever they all had, I clearly didn’t. When I left, nobody came after me.

It feels like another lifetime now, like it happened to someone else.

Here, I’ve carved out a place for myself. The clinic has become my sanctuary, my small but sacred territory. Here, I can use my hands to heal and protect. I’m not the strongest, and I’m not a fighter like some of the others in the pack. But this is my way of making a difference and contributing to my community in a way I clearly couldn’t contribute before.

I spend my days relishing the fact that I know this place, that I truly understand its workings. The broad, clean stretch of our main road lines with high evergreen trees, the glimmering glass panes of the pack center’s windows just half a minute’s walk down my street, and the cozy stretch of our village-like suburbs tucked the center of town, where countless families spend their days against the backdrop of the tightly-packed pine trees that surround Rosecreek. Despite myself, I even love downtown, the busiest quarter in the town, where Percy and Veronica’s apartment has hosted countless get-togethers for the team, and where Keira and Ado recently moved into their own place.

“Does that feel any better?” I ask Jackson, pulling myself out of my thoughts and back into the present.

He’s still wincing, but there’s a sheepish grin on his face as he flexes his arm a little, testing the bandage. He has that blind confidence in his own resilience that only twelve-year-olds can possess.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I think I’ll listen to you this time. Maybe no more sparring with Sam for a while.” I can tell he’s lying.

I laugh softly anyway, giving his shoulder a gentle pat. “Smart decision. But seriously, let that arm rest, okay? You’ll heal faster if you don’t push it too hard.”

He nods, offering a quick thanks before he leaves. It’s kids I like working with the most. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted kids. It’ll be years until that happens. Traitorously, my mind tells me it never will.

As soon as the door swings shut behind Jackson, I feel the silence creeping in again. It’s a different kind of quiet now, one that makes the empty spaces in the clinic seem even larger.

This place, this town… it’s given me a new start—a chance to rebuild myself. And most of the time, I really am happy. Sometimes, at night, I try to take stock of my life and seriously see it for what it is. I try to measure all that I’ve lost and gained. And until recently, I’ve been satisfied with what I find there.

Despite my best efforts, my thoughts wander back to Zane.

I didn’t mean to fall for him. It just happened—like some kind of cruel trick that fate decided to play on me. He was everything I thought I wanted, everything I’ve ever admired: strong, independent, witty, confident. From the moment I first saw him, all black leather and thick black hair, those dark features so striking even across the space of a room, I knew it would be a problem for me. He flirted with me openly as if I wouldn’t notice it and then seemed to relish in it when I did. I let myself believe, just for a moment, that he could see me—really see me—not just as the medic who keeps to herself but as someone worth loving.

But I was wrong.

Zane made that clear enough when he rejected me and when I overheard him a week later speaking about me. His words—sharp and cutting—still echo in my mind all the time, even though it’s been months.

I wasn’t his type. I wasn’t enough.

That wound is still raw, and I’m not sure how to make it stop hurting.

I sigh, shaking my head to clear away the thoughts. This isn’t the time to get lost in self-pity. I have patients to care for and duties to fulfill. I’m more than just Maisie, the heartbroken woman trying to pick up the pieces after a rejection she didn’t see coming. I’m a nurse. A healer. A member of Rosecreek’s pack. These days, I keep trying to tell myself that for me to have gotten this far from where I came from, there must be something within me with the capacity for strength. Something hardier and more resilient than I really feel.

Even if I’m still trying to figure out what that something is.

The phone rings, cutting through the clinic's quiet like a sharp blade. I reach for it and try to ignore the swoop of dread in my gut. I take calls all day—sometimes I hear the ringing of the landline phone in my sleep—but I’ve been anxious about nothing all the time lately.

“Rosecreek Clinic, Maisie speaking,” I chirp as cheerfully as I can into the receiver.

A deep, steady voice rings back to me, slightly harried. “Maisie, it’s Bigby. You need to get to the pack center right away.”

His tone is serious, more than I’m used to hearing from him.

My heart skips a beat. “What happened?”

“Nobody’s dying, but it’s Rafael. He took a blow to the head during a sparring match. He’s confused but stable. We need you here to check him out and make sure he’s not concussed.”

Rafael. He’s always been kind to me. The words head injury snap me into a sharp focus. They’re medical curse words, rarely uttered aloud lest they bring bad luck. They’re notoriously tricky. Things can turn critical in an instant.

“I’m on my way,” I say, already moving toward the supply closet.

“Maisie…” Bigby’s voice hesitates like there’s something he’s not telling me.

“What happened, Bigby?” I press, hoping he’ll fill in the blanks.

“It’s…” He stops himself and then clears his throat. “Please get here as quickly as you can.”

The way he dodges the question makes something click in my mind. I no longer need to ask who was involved.

Zane’s been on edge for weeks now, erratic in ways that have the entire pack concerned. He’s a live wire all the time. His temper’s been flaring up, and he’s been throwing himself into sparring matches like he’s trying to exorcize some demon. I’ve seen him on occasion, stalking with his shoulders tight and his head low, eyes burning with something terrifying.

I swallow hard, hand skittering on the desk, desperate to fidget with something. When I’m nervous, I like to work with my hands. One of the many reasons I became a doctor.

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” I promise before hanging up.

Grabbing my med kit, I stuff it with everything I might need—scissors, sterile bandages, a small flashlight to check his pupils. I’m already mentally preparing, running through the steps in my head. Assess the injury. Keep him calm. Watch for signs of a concussion.

Beneath the rhythm of my preparation, however, a sullen whisper of anger simmers. Zane did this. Even if Bigby didn’t say it outright, I know it was him. Zane, who can’t seem to get his act together. Zane, who seems to be spiraling out of control.

I grit my teeth as I shove the last of my supplies into the kit and sling it over my shoulder. I’ve tried so hard to distance myself from him, to keep him from getting under my skin. But here I am again, running headlong into a storm he summoned, and all I can do is watch it happen.

I throw open the clinic door and step out into the sunlight, my pulse quickening as I break into a jog toward the pack center.