Page 15 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice
My mind registers details in rapid succession: broad shoulders, dark bronze hair, the predatory grace of someone accustomed to hunting. When he lifts his head, golden eyes lock onto mine—eyes I’ve seen before, eyes that haunted my dreams since the convoy attack.
The Storm Eagle leader. Here. In human form.
I should sound the alarm. I should run. I should do anything but stand here, frozen in place, staring at the enemy who’s killed dozens of our people.
But those golden eyes hold something I never expected to see—desperation.
“Help her,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Please.”
The bundle in his arms moves slightly, and I realize it’s a person. A wounded Storm Eagle. He’s brought one of his own into the heart of enemy territory.
Medical training overrides fear. I gesture toward the nearest treatment room. “Put her on the table there.”
He hesitates, eyes darting around the facility as if expecting an ambush. His muscles tense, ready for flight or fight. The rational part of my brain screams that I should be terrified—this is a predator who could kill me with a thought—but instead, I feel a strange calm.
“I’m alone,” I tell him. “No one else is here. And I’m a doctor before I’m anything else.”
Something in my voice must convince him. He moves to the table and gently lays down his burden. As the cloak falls away, I see a young woman with bronze-gold hair matted with blood. Her skin has an ashen cast, and her breathing is shallow. A deep wound mars her arm.
“What happened?” I ask, pulling on gloves and reaching for diagnostic equipment.
“An arrow. From ground-dwellers working with the Dire Wolves.” He swallows hard. “Our healers couldn’t stop the spreading darkness.”
I scan the wound with a handheld medical device. The readings make me inhale sharply. “Toxin in the wound. Some kind of biological agent in the arrowhead.” I look up at him. “Why bring her here? Your people have survived for centuries without our medicine.”
His jaw tightens. “Because she’s my sister. And she’s dying.”
The raw pain in his voice strikes me harder than I expect. I remember my own brother Marcus, how I would do anything to save him if he were injured. This warrior, this enemy, is risking everything for family. It’s the most human thing I’ve witnessed since arriving at the frontier.
“I need to clean the wound, neutralize the toxin, and repair the tissue damage,” I explain, already reaching for supplies. “It will be painful for her.”
“Do what you must.” His eyes never leave his sister’s face. “Her name is Zara.”
I work methodically, cutting away the makeshift bandages to fully expose the wound. It’s worse than I initially thought—the toxin has spread through her bloodstream, causing tissue necrosis beyond the original injury. I inject a broad-spectrum antitoxin and begin the delicate process of removing the damaged tissue.
The Storm Eagle leader watches my every move with fierce intensity. I can feel his gaze on my hands as I work, cataloging every technique, every tool I use. Despite his obvious concern, there’s something analytical in his observation. He’s not just a warrior; he’s studying me.
“You’re the leader,” I say quietly as I work. “The golden eagle.”
He doesn’t deny it. “My name is Kael.”
Kael. The name resonates strangely in my mind, familiar somehow despite never having heard it before.
“I’m Dr.Elena Ashford,” I respond, focusing on irrigating the wound with an antibiotic solution. “Though I suspect you already knew that.”
A slight pause. “I’ve seen you before. During the convoy attack.”
“I remember.” I glance up briefly. “You looked right at me before lightning struck the window.”
Something flickers across his face—surprise, perhaps, that I recognized him in eagle form. “That wasn’t meant for you.”
“No?” I ask, returning my attention to his sister’s wound. “Just collateral damage in your war against us?”
His silence is heavy with unspoken justifications. I don’t press further, concentrating instead on saving his sister’s life. As I begin the tissue regeneration process, I notice something strange happening—my hands are starting to glow with that same silver-blue light I’ve witnessed in private moments.
I try to hide it, but Kael notices immediately.
“What is that?” he demands, stepping closer.
