Page 29 of Lock

“Already told Tori,” Ember said, slipping ahead of me to open the door.

The medic room smelled like antiseptic and coffee; it was possibly my least favorite room in the compound…

And Tori was already inside. One of the guys must’ve called her.

She was a former army combat medic and current EMT on our payroll. She wasn’t patched in—she didn’t need to be—but her brother Tank was, and she’d served with half the menhere overseas. Patched them up, dragged their asses out of firefights, stitched them together on bad nights. She lived on the compound like extended family.

Her red braid hung over one shoulder, dark tank top under her open vest, and she was snapping on gloves as I stepped in with Kellan in my arms.

She didn’t look surprised.

She did, however, look annoyed.

Which was normal. Tori was always annoyed when dealing with us.

“What’d you break?” she asked flatly.

“Nothing,” I bit out.

She shot me the unimpressed combat-medic stare. “Then why is he unconscious?”

“Heat spike,” Wraith said from behind me. “Or panic. Or both.”

Tori clicked her tongue like we were all idiots. “Put him on the bed. And back up, Lock. Your alpha pheromones are choking the whole room.”

I wanted to argue.

But she was right.

“Here.” She tapped the exam bed.

I laid Kellan down gently and stepped back. His face tipped toward me like his body hadn’t realized we weren’t touching anymore.

My chest tightened.

Dangerously.

Tori didn’t react, except for the raised brow. She took his hoodie off while he was out and then tossed it at Ember to fold.

“Too warm,” she muttered, already checking his pulse. “And you’re not helping.”

She focused on her patient. Checking him over with practiced movements.

“Good rate,” she muttered. “He’s overwhelmed. And maybe overstimulated.” Her eyes flicked to me.

I clenched my jaw but didn’t speak.

She checked him over and Kellan slept straight through it. His lips parted slightly, breath soft and steady.

“Vitals are normal,” she said finally. “Not dehydrated. Not in shock. Just overloaded. Too much adrenaline… and excitement.” Her tone was dry. And pointed.

“He’ll sleep it off,” she went on. “Keep him warm. And stop hovering.”

“I’m not hovering,” I snapped.

Ember snorted from where she’d appeared in the doorway. “You’re hovering.”

I ignored her.