Page 58 of Knotting the Firefighters

But please, please let her be okay first.

The siren wails our progress toward the medical center, and I hold the woman I love while hoping desperately that this time—unlike the past two weeks of close calls and near misses—she'll wake up without complications, without permanent damage, without any more reasons to nearly stop my heart with terror.

Please.

I can't lose her.

The world might survive without Chief Murphy, but mine absolutely won't.

MEDICAL REVELATIONS AND PACK POLITICS

~SILAS~

Dr. Sylvie Winters' office embodies everything I appreciate about competent medical professionals—organized chaos contained within methodical systems, walls lined with credentials that speak to dedication rather than ego, the subtle scent of lavender and antiseptic creating an atmosphere that's simultaneously clinical and calming.

She's an Omega herself, which makes her presence in Sweetwater Falls simultaneously remarkable and necessary. Female Omega doctors are rare enough in metropolitan areas; finding one practicing in small-town Montana borders on miraculous.

Probably why she ended up here.

Cities offer more opportunities but also more discrimination, more Alphas who question competence based on designation rather than credentials, and more battles fought daily just to maintain professional respect.

Small towns offer different challenges—isolation, limited resources, conservative mindsets—but also the possibility of becoming indispensable, of building a reputation that transcends biology through consistent excellence.

Dr. Winters has clearly achieved that status; her practice is thriving enough to occupy prime Main Street real estate, her patient roster apparently including everyone from ranchers to the police chief to unconscious fire chiefs currently recovering in her examination rooms.

We're clustered in her consultation space—too many Alphas for the modest square footage, our combined scents probably overwhelming despite her air filtration system. Aidric occupies the chair closest to her desk, posture radiating authority he's trying to assert despite circumstances making that complicated. Bear leans against the wall by the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Calder paces near the window, unable to sit still, his pine-bourbon scent intensifying with each circuit.

Nervous energy manifesting as kinetic motion.

I recognize the pattern from our shared history, from the years we'd worked together before everything imploded spectacularly. Calder Hayes doesn't sit still when worried, doesn't rest when someone he cares about is vulnerable, doesn't accept reassurance until he's personally verified the threat has passed.

Some things don't change, apparently.

Dr. Winters finishes reviewing whatever information is displayed on her tablet, her expression shifting through several emotions too subtle to read before settling into professional neutrality that makes my medical instincts go on alert.

That look means complications.

"I have a comprehensive care plan prepared for Chief Murphy," she begins, each word measured, controlled, carrying the weight of information she's about to deliver. "However, there's a significant complication we need to address."

The commentary already contributes to my own nervous energy that I’m avoiding acknowledging, my stomach sinking with uncertainty.

Calder stops pacing immediately, his attention snapping to her with laser focus.

"If it's money, we're both financially well off." The words emerge clipped, brooking no argument about resource allocation. "Whatever treatment she needs, specialists need consulting, or equipment requires purchasing, the price isn't an obstacle."

Aidric leans forward, elbows on his knees, storm-gray eyes fixed on Dr. Winters with intensity that would probably intimidate someone less accustomed to dominant Alphas.

"She probably still has benefits through LA Fire Department," he adds, tone carrying the kind of certainty that suggests he's already investigated this angle. "Her leave of absence was officially approved, which means her insurance coverage should remain active for the duration of her sabbatical."

Bear pushes off the wall, joining the conversation with practical observation.

"Plus, Chief Rodriguez has every intention of offering her a contract to work at Station Fahrenheit, even if temporarily, to aid the station's growth and development. Proving employment and insurance coverage isn't problematic."

Dr. Winters shakes her head, the gesture carrying the weight of frustration rather than dismissal.

"None of those are the current problem," she states, and the careful emphasis on 'current' makes my stomach tighten with anticipation of worse complications. "The real issue stems from new government policy affecting all Omegas regardless of location—small town or major city, rural or urban environment."

She pauses, letting the implication settle before delivering the blow.