"Sorry, excuse me, coming through!"

I rushed down the corridor toward the conference room, my heart pounding. I was thirty minutes late. Thirty minutes. Dr. Owen was going to kill me. After everything that happened with the surgery, being late to his meeting was probably the final nail in my coffin.

I'd spent the last two hours hiding in the locker room, trying to make sense of what happened. My hands had stopped shaking, but my mind still spun in circles. How did I perform that surgery? Where did that knowledge come from?

I reached the conference room door and took a deep breath. Through the small window, I could see Dr. Owen standing at the front, addressing the room full of interns and nurses. I carefully turned the handle and slipped inside, trying to be invisible.

The door creaked.

Every head turned toward me. But I barely noticed them. Because Dr. Owen looked up, and our eyes met, and everything else disappeared.

He was tall, maybe six foot three, with dark hair that fell slightly over his forehead. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, covered with just a hint of stubble. But it was his eyes that stopped my heart. Deep brown, almost amber in the fluorescent lights, intense and intelligent. He wore his white coat over a black button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms.

My wolf, who'd been silent my entire life, suddenly purred inside my chest. The sound shocked me so much I almost stumbled. Heat flooded through my body, pooling low in my belly. I'd never felt anything like this before.

Dr. Owen held my gaze, and something flickered in his eyes. His nostrils flared slightly, like he was scenting the air. The moment stretched between us, electric and alive.

"I'm sorry," I managed to whisper. "I lost track of time."

"Miss Hart." His voice was deep and rough, and it sent tingles racing across my skin. Every nerve ending came alive at the sound of my name in his mouth. "I believe you must have heard that I don't tolerate late coming, especially from interns."

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Owen. It won't happen again. I was just..." I trailed off. What could I possibly say? I was hiding because I mysteriously became a surgical genius for twenty minutes?

"Take a seat, Miss Hart."

I nodded and started toward an empty chair in the back. But my legs felt weak, unsteady. Because Dr. Owen's eyes followed me with every step. That amber gaze tracked my movement like a predator watching prey. I could feel the weight of his stare on my skin, hot and heavy.

My foot caught on absolutely nothing. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the back of a chair. Heat flooded my cheeks.

From the front row, Tricia's giggle rang out clear and mocking.

I finally made it to my seat and sank down, my face burning. I couldn't look up. Couldn't meet anyone's eyes. Especially not his.

"As I was saying," Dr. Owen continued, his voice filling the room, "emergency procedures require not just skill but judgment. Today's incident proves that point."

I forced myself to look up. Big mistake. He was staring right at me. Our eyes locked again and the air between us seemed to crackle. My breath caught in my throat.

He cleared his throat and looked away, but not before I saw his jaw tighten. "Interns are here to learn, not to take unnecessary risks. The hospital has protocols for a reason."

He was talking about me. About the surgery. But his tone wasn't entirely disapproving. There was something else there. Curiosity maybe? Interest?

I couldn't stop watching him. The way he moved, confident and powerful. The way his hands gestured when he talked, strong and capable. Those were surgeon's hands. Hands that saved lives. I wondered what they'd feel like on my skin and immediately felt my face heat up even more.

Stop it, Mary. He's your boss. And probably way out of your league.

But my body didn't listen. Every time his eyes drifted toward me, which happened more often than it should, my pulse jumped. Once, he was mid sentence about proper chain of command when he glanced at me. Our eyes met and he completely lost his train of thought. He stood there for a full three seconds, just staring, before shaking his head and continuing.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a scalpel.

I noticed Tricia shifting in her seat in the front row. She adjusted her skirt, crossing and uncrossing her legs, leaning forward to give Dr. Owen a better view of her cleavage. She smiled at him, batting her eyelashes.

"That bitch," I muttered under my breath.

"In conclusion," Dr. Owen's voice cut through my thoughts, "unauthorized surgical procedures will be dealt with on a case by case basis. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone stood, gathering their things. I grabbed my notebook and headed for the door, desperate to escape before I embarrassed myself further.

"Miss Hart."

I froze. That voice sent shivers down my spine.

"I need you in my office in thirty minutes. We need to talk."

I turned slowly. He was watching me with those intense eyes, his expression unreadable.

"Okay, sir," I managed to say.

As I turned to leave, I caught sight of Tricia glaring at me like I'd stolen her last meal. She hissed under her breath and stormed past me, her shoulder deliberately bumping mine.

I walked down the hallway in a daze. Dr. Owen wanted to see me. Alone. In his office. My stomach did flips. Was he going to fire me? Reprimand me? Or was this about something else? The way he'd looked at me during the meeting didn't feel like anger.

"Mary! Hey, Mary, wait up!"

I turned to see Derek jogging toward me, his face flushed. I immediately wanted to punch him.

"What do you want?" I kept walking.

"I've been trying to reach you." He fell into step beside me. "How did you do it?"

"How did I what?" I didn't look at him.

"The surgery. Everyone's talking about it. An intern performing a successful Bentall procedure? That's incredible. I heard Dr. Stevens say it was textbook perfect."

"Are you done?"

"Hey, I just wanted to say you were amazing." He touched my arm and I jerked away. "Look, what do you say to dinner this evening? At my place? We could celebrate."

I stopped walking and turned to face him. "Some of us have better things to do, Derek."

"Come on, I know you're still mad about what happened with Tricia." He smiled that charming smile that used to make my heart race. Now it just made me nauseous. "Look, Tricia is a bitch, okay? I don't even love her. It's always been you, Mary. You have to believe me."

I laughed. Actually laughed. "Go puke on yourself, Derek."

I left him standing there and walked toward Dr. Owen's office. With every step, my heart beat faster. I stopped outside his door, staring at the nameplate. Dr. Owen Prescott, Chief of Surgery.

I swallowed hard and knocked.

"Come in."

"Sit."

I stepped into Dr. Owen's office and the door clicked shut behind me. The room smelled like him. That intoxicating scent of pine and something darker, muskier. My knees went weak.

He sat behind his desk, looking at his computer screen. When he glanced up at me, the world stopped. Those amber eyes locked onto mine and heat flooded my face, my neck, my entire body. I felt like I was burning up from the inside.

"Sit," he repeated, his voice stern.

I sank into the chair across from his desk, my hands gripping my knees. Don't stare. Don't make it weird. Act professional.

He opened a file on his desk. My file. "Mary Hart. Twenty two years old. Graduated top of your class from Westbrook Medical Academy. Started your internship here three months ago. Excellent academic record but minimal practical experience." He looked up. "Until today."

I bit my lip, saying nothing.

He stood up and walked around the desk. My breath caught. He leaned back against the desk, right in front of me. So close I could smell his cologne. So close I could see the gold flecks in his eyes. My mind went completely blank.

All I could think about was how much I wanted to reach out and touch him. To run my hands over that chest, to feel those arms around me. To taste his lips. God, what was wrong with me?

"So tell me," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "how did you perform one of the most difficult surgeries in modern medicine?"

"Um." My voice came out as a squeak. I cleared my throat. "I guess it was just luck, sir. Maybe the adrenaline rush."

"Hmm. Interesting." He tilted his head, studying me. "Adrenaline doesn't go to medical school, Mary. You were reckless. You could have made the situation more critical. That patient could have died on your table."

"But he didn't." The words came out sharper than I intended.

His eyebrow raised. "No. He didn't. In fact, he's doing remarkably well. Dr. Stevens said your technique was flawless. Almost too flawless for someone with your level of experience."

The way he looked at me made my stomach flutter. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Like I was something fascinating and confusing at the same time.

"And this thing you've been doing since the board meeting," he continued, his voice dropping lower, "what's that about?"

"What are you talking about?" I tried to sound innocent, but my voice shook.

"Don't play dumb with me, Miss Hart." He leaned forward slightly and I nearly melted into the chair. "Looking into my eyes all through the meeting like the road to your house is mapped in there. Smiling with that messy hair of yours. Do you have any idea what you did? You made my wolf restless."

Oh god. Oh god. He caught me. My face burned so hot I thought I might spontaneously combust. His wolf? He felt it too? That pull between us?

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," I lied. "I was only paying attention to the meeting."

His lips curved into a slight smile. It was devastating. "Really? Then tell me, what was the last instruction I gave at the meeting?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. My mind was completely blank. I'd been so focused on watching him, on the way his mouth moved when he talked, on the way his eyes kept finding mine, that I hadn't heard a single word after I sat down.

"Um. You said..." I bit my lip, trying desperately to remember. "You said... um..."

"That's what I thought." He straightened up, and the small smile remained. "I'm not complaining though. But be careful, Mary. I don't do interns."

"I'm not trying to 'do you,'" I shot back, using finger quotes.

"Your body language says otherwise."

Before I could respond, before I could even process what he'd just said, there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Dr. Owen, we have a case. Ward twelve. Possible cardiac arrest. They need you immediately."

"I'll be there shortly," he called out.

He looked back at me, and for a moment, something soft flickered in his eyes. Something that made my heart squeeze.

"You're dismissed, Miss Hart."

I stood on shaky legs and headed for the door. My hand was on the handle when his voice stopped me.

"Mary."

I turned back. He was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Intense. Hungry almost.

"You know..I like it when your hair is messy."

"Stop looking at me like that, Juniper."

I stabbed my fork into my salad, avoiding my best friend's wide eyed stare. We sat in the hospital cafeteria during lunch break, and she hadn't stopped gawking at me for the past ten minutes.

"Wait, so let me get this straight." Juniper leaned forward, her curly red hair falling over her shoulder. "You woke up one morning and became a super surgeon by magic? Just like that? Poof?"

"I'm being honest, Juniper. I don't know what happened." I pushed the lettuce around my plate. "One minute I'm completely lost, crying my eyes out over Derek. The next minute I'm performing one of the most complex surgeries in cardiothoracic medicine. It was like someone else took control of my body. Like I was being possessed or something."

Juniper closed her eyes and held her hands up like she was performing an exorcism. "Hey, you evil spirit in my friend's body. Out. This instant. In the name of all that is holy, leave!"

"It's not funny, Juniper." But I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

"Come on, it's a little funny." She opened one eye and peeked at me. "Maybe you're like those people in movies who get hit on the head and suddenly become geniuses."

"Nobody hit me on the head."

"Maybe you hit yourself and forgot about it. You know, because of the head hitting."

I groaned and put my head in my hands. "I'm being serious. I'm scared, Juni. What if it happens again? What if next time I mess up and kill someone?"

My phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at the screen and rolled my eyes. Another text from Derek.

"Hey, I haven't gotten a response from you about dinner. We really need to talk. I miss you."

"Let me guess," Juniper said, eyeing my expression. "Derek?"

"He's been a pain in my ass since the surgery." I shoved my phone into my pocket. "Suddenly he wants to talk. Suddenly I'm amazing and he misses me. Where was all this when I overheard him telling Tricia I was worthless?"

"Men are trash," Juniper declared, taking a big bite of her sandwich. "Especially werewolf men. They think just because they have a wolf and we're omegas, they can treat us like garbage and we'll come running back."

"Well, this omega isn't running anywhere except away from him."

"That's my girl!" Juniper high fived me across the table. "So, speaking of running toward things instead of away from them, what's the deal with Dr. Owen?"

Heat flooded my face instantly. "What? There's no deal. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please." Juniper's grin was wicked. "The entire intern class is talking about how he couldn't take his eyes off you during the board meeting. Tricia is absolutely seething. She's been trying to get his attention for months and he barely knows she exists."

"He was probably just watching me because I was late and he was annoyed."

"Mmhmm. And that's why he called you to his office for a private meeting?" Juniper waggled her eyebrows. "Girl, spill. What happened?"

Before I could answer, the clicking of heels on linoleum made us both look up. Tricia approached our table, her face arranged in a smug smile. She wore her scrubs like they were designer clothes, somehow making the shapeless hospital uniform look fashionable.

"Well, well. If it isn't the miracle girl." Tricia stopped at our table, crossing her arms.

"What do you want, Tricia?" I didn't bother hiding my irritation.

"To make just one thing clear." She leaned down, her voice dropping to a hiss. "Dr. Owen is mine. I don't know what little trick you pulled in that meeting, but he's not interested in wolfless nobodies. So back off."

I stood up, meeting her eyes. "And Derek?"

Tricia laughed, a harsh sound. "Derek? Please. Derek was just to pass time. You think I, Patricia Weston, an alpha's daughter, would take a beta's son seriously? He was a toy. A distraction. Nothing more."

"You're disgusting," Juniper spat.

"And you're irrelevant," Tricia shot back. "Both of you. So stay away from what's mine."

"Mary."

That voice. That deep, commanding voice that made every nerve in my body stand at attention. We all turned to see Dr. Owen approaching, his white coat billowing slightly as he walked. He looked directly at me, ignoring Tricia completely.

"I need you to check on the patient in ward seven. Mr. Morrison. Make sure his vitals are stable and review his post op medication schedule."

"Yes, sir. Right away." I tried to keep my voice steady, professional.

Tricia stepped forward, touching Dr. Owen's arm. "Dr. Owen, I was wondering if you needed any assistance with the surgery scheduled for this afternoon. I'd be happy to observe and help in any way I can."

Dr. Owen's eyes flickered to where her hand rested on his arm. His expression turned cold. "Miss Weston, if you don't get over yourself and stop this inappropriate behavior, you'll lose your internship program. Are we clear?"

Tricia's face went white, then red. She snatched her hand back. "I... yes, sir."

"Good." He turned back to me, and his expression softened just slightly. "Ward seven, Miss Hart. Now, please."

He walked away, leaving Tricia standing there looking humiliated. Juniper covered her mouth, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Oh my god," Juniper whispered. "Did you see her face?"

I couldn't help but grin. "That was pretty satisfying."

Tricia glared at both of us before spinning on her heel and storming away.

"I take back what I said," Juniper announced. "Dr. Owen is not trash. Dr. Owen is a god among men."

I was about to respond when screaming erupted from the emergency entrance. We both jumped up and ran toward the sound.

A woman burst through the automatic doors, carrying a boy who looked about twelve years old. The child's face was turning blue, his hands clawing at his throat.

"Help! Somebody help! My child is dying! Please, someone help us!"

Nurses rushed forward immediately. Dr. Stevens appeared from somewhere, taking charge.

"What happened?" A nurse asked, trying to calm the panicked mother.

"He was eating lunch and suddenly he started choking. I tried the Heimlich maneuver but nothing worked. He can't breathe. Please, please save my baby!"

The boy's lips were turning purple. His eyes rolled back. He was suffocating.

"Get me a laryngoscope," Dr. Stevens ordered. "We need to intubate. Someone page Dr. Owen."

But I was already moving. That strange feeling washed over me again, like stepping into a warm bath. The world sharpened into crystal clarity. I could see exactly what needed to be done.

My body moved on autopilot. I stepped forward, gently but firmly moving the nurse aside. "It's a complete airway obstruction. The Heimlich won't work because the object is lodged too deep. We need to perform an emergency cricothyrotomy."

"Mary, wait," Juniper grabbed my arm, but I barely felt it.

"Scalpel," I said, my voice calm and authoritative. "And a tracheostomy tube. Now."

A nurse handed me the instruments, her hands shaking. I didn't hesitate. I tilted the boy's head back, located the cricothyroid membrane with my fingers. One swift incision. The boy's mother screamed but someone held her back.

I made a small horizontal incision through the skin and membrane, inserted the tube, and secured it. The boy gasped, air rushing into his lungs. His color began returning from blue to pink.

"Oxygen," I said, and someone placed the mask over the tube.

The boy coughed, wheezed, then started breathing steadily. His eyes fluttered open, confused and scared but alive.

"Oh my god, thank you!" The mother rushed forward, sobbing. "Thank you so much! You saved his life!"

I looked down at the scalpel still in my hand. Blood covered my fingers. The strange clarity faded and I was suddenly myself again, staring in horror at what I'd just done.

What was happening to me?

I looked up and saw everyone staring. Dr. Stevens, the nurses, Juniper, other interns who'd gathered to watch. All of them looking at me like I was something impossible.

I dropped the scalpel on the instrument tray and ran. I ran through the emergency room, down the hallway, not knowing where I was going. Just needing to get away from all those eyes.

I burst through a door and found myself in a stairwell. I collapsed on the steps, my whole body shaking.

Two medical emergencies in one day. Two impossible procedures I shouldn't know how to do. This wasn't normal. This couldn't be normal.

"Mary?"

I looked up. Dr. Owen stood at the top of the stairs, his face concerned. He'd followed me.

"I don't know what's happening to me," I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

He came down the stairs slowly, like approaching a frightened animal. When he reached me, he sat down on the step beside me. Close enough that I could feel the heat of his body.

"Tell me," he said softly. "Tell me everything."