Alpha's Regret: The Seventh Time was Forever

Chapter 74: Chapter 74 – I think I know which Zane we’re looking for

”Sera, thank God you’re here. I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly. Can you perform a surgery?”

Leon’s voice carried urgency the second she stepped fully into the corridor, and the way he stood in front of her, shoulders tight and eyes restless, made it obvious this was not a casual question thrown out of curiosity.

He had already checked her credentials on her first day, had combed through her paperwork carefully while processing her as a locum doctor, and although her file listed surgical experience, there were no detailed hospital records attached to confirm it.

That detail had lingered in the back of his mind ever since, but now it mattered more than ever. Seraphine froze for a fraction of a second.

She had performed surgeries before, yes, but none of them had been on humans.

At the pack, things were different. Their wolves accelerated healing, strengthened recovery, and stabilized the body in ways human medicine could never replicate.

Procedures that would require long hours of cautious stitching and monitoring in a human hospital were almost routine back home because their wolf handled half the burden. The body responded differently, just as the risks were calculated differently.

Humans had no wolves, no supernatural recovery cushioning their mistakes, and relying entirely on science, precision, and timing.

When she filled out her forms here, she had stated truthfully that she performed surgeries. She had told herself that with time, she would bridge the gap between werewolf medicine and human medicine, that eventually she would stand confidently in both worlds without hesitation.

She just hadn’t expected that moment to arrive this soon. ”Yes, but—” she started, needing to explain, to clarify the context, but Leon did not give her room to finish.

”I told Ruth to cover your rounds while you assist me,” he said quickly, already reaching for her arm and guiding her down the hallway with determined steps. ”Two of my assistants have emergencies, and another case just arrived from another hospital. It’s complicated. I can’t be in two operating rooms at once, and time is not on our side.”

They walked fast, their shoes echoing against the polished floors, and as he spoke, she could finally see the strain etched into his features.

He had been juggling too much, it mirrored her own chaotic schedule lately, and strangely, she felt grateful that through all of it, Leon had remained professional, jovial even, never crossing boundaries, never making her feel uncomfortable in a space where she was already carrying so much.

”I’m not ready for surgery,” she managed to say, forcing the words out just as they reached the doors of the operating theatre.

Leon stopped abruptly and turned to her. ”What?”

Before she could elaborate, her gaze moved past him. Inside, surgical assistants stood prepared, their eyes lifting toward her with expectation. On the operating table lay a small body that seemed far too fragile for the harsh brightness of the theatre lights.

A boy, no older than ten. His skin was pale, almost translucent under the glare, his breathing shallow and uneven. The monitors beeped with alarming inconsistency, each erratic sound tugging at something deep inside her chest.

Compassion hit her hard. Leon’s voice cut through the sterile air, crisp and urgent. ”Perforated appendicitis. His appendix ruptured hours ago. He’s septic and bleeding internally. If we don’t operate now, he won’t make it through the night. The other case is a congenital heart defect. I have to scrub into that one immediately, but I can’t leave this unattended. If you’re sure you can handle this, I need to go now.”

The assistants looked at her, waiting. Seraphine swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

This was it. No wolves, no supernatural safety net, and no pack healers standing by. Just her.

”Prep him for laparotomy,” she heard herself say, surprised by how steady her voice sounded despite the storm inside her.

The theatre lights blazed overhead as Leon offered her a brief nod filled with gratitude and disappeared after wishing her luck.

She stepped toward the scrub sink, the ritual motions grounding her as she washed in carefully. For a brief second, her hands trembled under the running water, but muscle memory from years of training took over, steadying her movements.

When she made the incision, she focused entirely on the anatomy in front of her, pushing aside every doubt clawing at her mind. Blood pooled immediately, dark and urgent, and the suction machine hummed as it cleared her view.

The sharp scent of cauterization filled the room when she sealed a vessel, smoke curling faintly under the lights.

She located the ruptured appendix quickly, its inflamed tissue a grim reminder of how close the boy had come to death. Infection had already begun spreading through his abdomen like silent poison.

Her thoughts moved in rhythm with her hands. Clamp, irrigate, remove.

Every action required precision, every second mattered. She flushed the abdominal cavity thoroughly, ensuring no trace of infection was left behind, her movements careful yet efficient.

She sutured vessels, controlled bleeding, and closed layer after layer with focused attention, her breathing aligning with the steady beeping of the monitor beside her.

Gradually, the chaotic sounds softened. The boy’s vitals stabilized, and his breathing evened out.

Numbers climbed back into safe ranges, as Seraphine tied the final stitch and stepped back, her chest rising and falling more heavily now that the immediate danger had passed.

”He’s stable,” she whispered, almost to herself.

The assistants exchanged relieved glances, the tension in the room finally loosening.

As she stepped out of the theatre, peeling off her gloves, exhaustion hit her all at once, and she nearly collided with Leon in the hallway.

”How did it go?” he asked quickly. ”I just finished mine and came to check on you.”

She moved aside so he could glance at the monitors through the small viewing window. He studied the steady readings, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

”You saved him, Sera,” he said softly, awe evident in his voice.

Only then did her hands begin to tremble, now that the pressure was gone and adrenaline was draining from her system. For the first time, she had successfully bridged the gap between wolf and human medicine. She had performed human surgery, relying solely on skill, science, and instinct, and she had succeeded.

She had crossed that invisible line.

What she did not know yet was that this single operation would ripple outward, increasing her demand within the medical field in ways she had not anticipated.

When she finally stepped out of the hospital, night air cool against her overheated skin, she saw Corvine waiting near the entrance, his expression tense with worry.

”What happened?” he asked immediately, stepping toward her. ”You’re two hours late.”

She opened her mouth to explain, still riding the high of survival and success, but he cut in before she could speak.

”I think I know which Zane we’re looking for.”