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Aidric breaks the quiet with grudging acceptance.

"Fine. I approve of you documenting pack affiliation on her medical records."

The concession carries weight, acknowledgment of necessity overriding personal preference. But then he adds, storm-gray eyes fixed on Calder with unmistakable challenge. "It's a temporary arrangement only. We don't need an Omega permanently, and Murphy and I probably won't get along anyway, especially with certain assholes complicating pack dynamics."

Calder's response is immediate, delivered with casual disdain that makes Aidric's jaw clench.

"Go touch grass and stop thinking you're the center of the universe's attention. Not everything revolves around your ego or your inability to maintain adult relationships."

Here we go.

They surge toward each other—Aidric's hands clenching, Calder's posture shifting into fighting stance, three years of unresolved tension finally finding outlet through physical confrontation.

Bear's voice cuts through with an authoritative boom.

"Cut it out! If you're going to fight, take it outside where Dr. Winters doesn't have to witness grown Alphas acting like territorial children."

Both freeze, years of pack hierarchy and mutual respect just barely overriding the impulse to violence.

I turn back to Dr. Winters, deliberately ignoring the testosterone-fueled standoff happening behind me.

"What's the recommended care plan? Assuming Chief Murphy accepts the pack arrangement, what does her recovery look like?"

Dr. Winters pulls her attention from the near-fight with visible effort, professional focus reasserting itself.

"She'll recover fully with proper rest and medication adjustment," she assures me, already typing notes. "The burns will heal with minimal scarring if she maintains the treatment protocol. The hormonal instability will stabilize once she begins a new suppressant regimen and adjusts to pack proximity."

She pauses, stylus hovering over her tablet.

"However, I'm strongly recommending she remain off active duty for a minimum of one month. No emergency responses, no running into burning buildings, no high-stress situations that could trigger additional fainting episodes or compromise healing."

Calder groans from behind me, the sound carrying genuine distress.

"That's like telling her she's under house arrest. She's going to be a sneaky teenager trying to escape curfew, finding increasingly creative ways to endanger herself under the guise of boredom management."

He's not wrong.

Wendolyn Murphy doesn't look like she’d do inactive well.

Dr. Winters' lips twitch with a suppressed smile.

"Then you'll need to either keep her contained or properly entertained. Function as an actual pack. Take her on dates around town, facilitate hobbies, provide activities that engage her mind without endangering her body."

We all exchange glances—confusion evident because none of us has extensive experience with traditional pack courtship dynamics, especially involving Omegas.

Dr. Winters observes our collective bewilderment and actually groans, pinching the bridge of her nose in a gesture that communicates universal exasperation with Alpha ignorance.

"Alphas," she mutters. "You're all the same."

"Hey!" Four voices protest simultaneously, offense taken at the generalization.

She rolls her eyes with enough force to suggest permanent ocular damage.

"If Wendolyn wasn't compatible with her last pack, then she probably doesn't understand what being around true compatible Alphas actually means. She never got to experience proper courtship. The dates, the fun activities, the sense of safety and joy that should come from pack bonding."

Her expression softens, sympathy replacing irritation.

"She keeps herself busy for a reason. Either she's genuinely bored and unfulfilled by small-town life compared to her previous career intensity, or, more likely, she's profoundly lonely and uses constant activity to avoid confronting that emptiness."