Rejected Healer: Fleeing the Alpha's Grip

The metallic scent of silver-laced blood hit me the moment they carried him through the healing center doors. I dropped my herb preparations and rushed forward, my healer instincts immediately cataloging the severity of his condition. The rogue's skin had taken on the telltale grayish pallor of advanced silver poisoning, his breathing shallow and labored.

"Get him to the main treatment room," I commanded the warriors who'd brought him in. "Now."

As they lifted the unconscious rogue onto my examination table, I could see the extent of the damage. Silver burns traced angry patterns across his torso where the poisoned weapons had made contact. His wolf was completely suppressed—a dangerous sign that meant the silver had reached his bloodstream. I'd seen cases like this before. Without immediate, precise treatment, he had hours at most.

I was already reaching for my silver extraction kit when Neil's commanding voice cut through the urgent atmosphere.

"Blakely, step back."

I froze, my hand hovering over the specialized tools I'd need to save this rogue's life. Neil stood in the doorway, his Alpha presence filling the room, with Amelie Jenkins hovering behind him like a shadow. Her wide eyes took in the scene with what I recognized as barely concealed excitement rather than the appropriate concern.

"Neil, this is severe silver poisoning," I said, not moving from the rogue's side. "He needs immediate treatment. The extraction process alone will take—"

"Amelie will handle this case." His tone brooked no argument, but I had to try.

"She's not ready for something this complex. Silver poisoning requires precise timing, exact dosages—"

"She needs the experience." Neil's jaw was set in that stubborn line I'd come to know too well. "You've been monopolizing all the challenging cases. How is she supposed to learn?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "Learn? Neil, this man will die if—"

"Are you questioning my judgment?" The Alpha tone crept into his voice, that authoritative edge that demanded submission. Behind him, Amelie stepped forward with feigned confidence.

"I can do this, Alpha Neil," she said softly, her voice carrying that sweet, vulnerable quality that seemed to mesmerize him. "Blakely has taught me well."

Taught her well? I'd barely begun her training on silver cases. She'd observed a few minor treatments, nothing remotely close to this level of toxicity.

"Neil, please," I tried once more, desperation creeping into my voice as the rogue's breathing became more labored. "At least let me supervise—"

"You have other patients to attend to." He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "Focus on the less critical cases. Amelie has this handled."

Less critical cases. The words stung like a physical blow. I watched as Amelie moved to the treatment table with eager steps, her hands already reaching for the silver extraction tools she barely knew how to use properly.

"The dosage calculations for the neutralizing agent are critical," I said quickly, hoping to give the dying rogue some chance. "One miscalculation and—"

"Blakely." Neil's voice carried a