Page 7 of Fat Arranged Mate
"Zaleska," she says, her tone clipped.
"Daley." I keep my voice equally detached.
She shifts the medical bag, eyeing me warily. "Let me guess—another day of defending us from the terrifying threat of bird-watchers?"
"Funny."
"I wasn't joking." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture I've noticed she makes when annoyed. "That man was sixty-five years old with a sprained ankle."
"He was trespassing on pack land with a camera."
"Taking pictures of woodpeckers, not secret werewolf meetings." She rolls her eyes. "He needed medical attention. I provided it."
"Without alerting security first." I step closer, deliberately using my height advantage. "Protocol exists for a reason."
"Oh, please." She doesn't back up an inch. "By the time your security team would've shown up, the poor man could have developed a blood clot."
"He could have been documenting our territory for another attack."
"Right. Because senior citizen bird enthusiasts are the real threat to Silvercreek." Her voice drips with sarcasm. "Not paranoid, trigger-happy wolves who see enemies in every shadow."
I clench my jaw. "You have no idea what humans are capable of."
"And you have no idea what actual threats look like." She glares up at me, color rising in her cheeks. "I spent years watching Matthias separate real dangers from imagined ones. Trust me, Orthopedic Shoes with the binoculars wasn't plotting your demise."
"You don't get to make those calls." My voice lowers, frustration building. "Security decisions aren't up to the medical team."
"Patient care decisions aren't up to security." She matches my tone. "I don't tell you how to patrol the borders, don't tell me how to treat the injured."
"When those injured could endanger the pack—"
"Oh, for fuck’s sake!" She throws up her free hand. "The man collects bird feathers and talks about migration patterns! The biggest danger he posed was boring us to death with fun facts about woodpeckers!"
"You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being ridiculous? You wanted to interrogate him before setting his ankle!"
"Standard procedure."
"There's nothing standard about traumatizing an injured civilian!" Her voice rises. "What was your plan exactly? Scare him into a heart attack? Add another human death to Silvercreek's reputation?"
That hits a nerve. "Watch it, Daley."
"Or what? You'll report me to Alpha Nic? Go ahead." She steps closer, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her hazel eyes. "Tell him how the dangerous former Cheslem healer provided medical care to an injured human instead of letting him suffer while your security team took their sweet time responding."
"This isn't about you being Cheslem."
"Isn't it?" Her eyes narrow. "You've had it out for me since I arrived."
"I've had it out for your reckless disregard for protocol. I’ve had it out for you—” I flail for a moment. “Your—there's a difference."
"Protocol without compassion is just control for control's sake." She adjusts her medical bag strap, knuckles white. "Some of us actually remember what that feels like."
"Some of us remember what happens when security gets lax," I snap back.
She shakes her head, frustration evident in every line of her body. "You’re impossible. You’re the most paranoid person I’ve ever met, and I grew up around the most insane, violent—”
"Better paranoid and alive than dead—”
