Page 51 of Omega's Heart

Abel sighed. “No, that’s what I was telling Quin. He’s still weighing the pros and cons of it.”

Kaden sat up straight and winced when he bumped the still healing sore on his stump. “There are no pros to it. You—we—are going to still be figuring out how to best use that money, even if it’s theirs to spend. The next pack to get it should be one that’s used to having income from outside walls, that isn’t going to be awed and overwhelmed by it. Los Padres, White River, Salma, Jordan Bay. Maybe Jackson, because they’re close and I think Roland is a little intimidated by Quin and he seems to be trying to push the pack to integrate more. It’ll be hard for them, though, being so much farther from a major city than any of the others.”

“Jordan Bay’s not that close to a major center,” Abel objected.

“True,” Kaden conceded. “But they’ve been fishing with the humans for years and they are just as interested in sending their young shifters outside walls to train. I might choose them as being the ones that will need the least amount of oversight.”

Abel made a face. “You remember Sebastian?”

“Fuck Sebastian,” Kaden told him. “Every family has some dark wolves in it. I’m not going to stain the whole pack with the misdeeds of one family.”

“That’s okay. I’ll do it for you,” Abel said with deceptive mildness.

“Kaden Salma Wood?” a young man called from one of the doorways.

“That’s me,” Kaden said and pushed himself carefully to his feet. That deep point of pain in his stub sent a sickening wave of nausea through his body, but he covered it up with a smile and some conciliatory body language. If things went well today, this might be the last time he had to work through it.

The—nurse?—held out a hand as if to steady him, but let it fall when Kaden waved it off. “I’m good. Just a bit sore.”

“Do you want a wheelchair?” the nurse asked. He started off down another hallway, the walls punctuated by doors with just numbers on them.

“No, I’m fine,” Kaden said smoothly. He hated the chair; he’d almost rather have the pain. Almost. His preference would be to have neither.

“Uh huh,” the nurse said and motioned to an open door. “You can wait here, the doctor won’t be long.”

“Thanks.” Translation: it was a good thing his phone had a full charge.

He sat down in the chair, a standard steel and vinyl thing that creaked under his weight. It smelled like the rest of the hospital, of antiseptic and a hint of sweat and the acrid chemicals that the body gave off under stress or pain. Kaden made a face and loosened his leg a little more, breathing a sigh of relief as the pressure came off. It would be a bitch to fix later, but he’d deal with that then.

A surprising twenty minutes later, the door opened and a man and a woman in white lab coats walked in. He remembered the doctor from before, from when he was getting his last check-ups before heading home for good. Stanford was his name. He liked to joke “No relation” and point to his medical degree on the wall.

“Good morning,” Stanford said. “I hope you don’t mind if I bring an intern in? She’s never seen your species in a medical setting before.”

Species. Kaden almost cracked up laughing. “That’s fine.” Kind of insulting, but he knew the doctor only saw them as procedures and histories, amputations and subsequent treatment plans. Species was probably him trying to be scientifically accurate. “Don’t know that I’m that interesting, though.”

“Not substantially different from human biology,” Stanford said in a tone of agreement. “But I try to be comprehensive. If it bothers you, I’ll send her out.”

Kaden shrugged. “She’s here to learn, isn’t she? Can’t learn in the hall.” The environment was having its effect on him. He’d fallen back into his soldier’s shorthand—clipped sentences, bare bones with no flourishes.

“Right, then, let’s get started. First, we’ll get that leg off and have a look. You’re still having pain?”

“Didn’t really have much when I first got it, but it started getting worse just on this one side after a bit.” He pulled up his jeans and rolled down the rubber sleeve, then slipped his stub out of the cup.

“That’s not a standard sock,” the doctor commented.

“Someone back home made it for me.” It was one of the ones that Felix had made. Fine cotton yarn knitted in some way that made it both spongy and not too thick. Something in the design helped too, extra padding on the bottom that lifted away the pressure on the sore side of the stump and transferred it to the inside of the knee. Not that he’d had the leg on that much since the day Felix had carted him off to see Adelaide. Kaden preferred them because they were more comfortable, though some of the colors made him wince. This one was the one plain navy blue he had. He’d worn it today in case the skin rubbed raw again, figuring the dark color would hide any bloodstains.

Stanford fingered the cloth and raised his eyebrows. “How does it hold up to being worn?” He beckoned the student over to pinch the edge of the sock between her fingers.

“I like it. Seems to cushion better. Don’t know how long they’ll wear though. He made me about a dozen of them.”

“Feel how thin that is? But there’s a solid core to it.” Stanford looked up at Kaden. “You’ll let me know how they last? If they’re good, maybe you’d share your supplier with us?”

“It’s not a business. He’s just...” How did he describe Felix? “A friend,” he finished, but even to his own ears it sounded lame. Felix was more than that. But what?

A question that was growing with each day that passed.

Stanford grunted. “Well, let’s get this off and have a look here.”