Page 8 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #2)

ELENA

T he midnight quiet of the medical facility wraps around me like a familiar blanket.

Most of the staff retired hours ago, but I prefer these solitary shifts.

The low hum of equipment, the soft blue glow of monitors, the orderly arrangement of supplies—it’s the closest thing to peace I’ve found since arriving at this frontier outpost.

I check the vitals of our last remaining patient, a young man whose leg was crushed during yesterday’s raid. The bone regeneration therapy is working well; he’ll walk again within weeks. I adjust his medication drip and move to my makeshift lab in the corner of the facility.

My research notes lie spread across the desk—observations on Storm Eagle attack patterns, genetic analyses, tissue samples—a scientific puzzle I can’t stop trying to solve.

My fingers absently trace the diagram of wing musculature I sketched from memory.

The severed wing Commander Walsh brought me three days ago revealed anatomical adaptations I never imagined possible.

A soft ping from my tablet interrupts my thoughts. A security alert—motion detected at the facility’s rear entrance. Probably another stray animal triggering the sensors. It’s happened three times this week already.

I tap the security feed and frown. The camera shows nothing but darkness. Either it’s malfunctioning, or something has deliberately disabled it. My heart rate quickens as I reach for the emergency alarm button beneath my desk.

Before my fingers touch it, the hair on my arms stands on end. An electric charge fills the air, like the moment before lightning strikes. I freeze, instinct warning me not to move.

The rear door swings open silently.

A tall figure steps into the dim light of the medical facility, and my breath catches in my throat. A man—no, not just a man. His presence fills the room, radiating power and tension. He cradles something in his arms, a bundle wrapped in what appears to be a leather cloak.

My mind registers details in rapid succession: broad shoulders, dark bronze hair, the predatory grace of someone accustomed to hunting. When he lifts his head, golden eyes lock onto mine—eyes I’ve seen before, eyes that haunted my dreams since the convoy attack.

The Storm Eagle leader. Here. In human form.

I should sound the alarm. I should run. I should do anything but stand here, frozen in place, staring at the enemy who’s killed dozens of our people.

But those golden eyes hold something I never expected to see—desperation.

“Help her,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Please.”

The bundle in his arms moves slightly, and I realize it’s a person. A wounded Storm Eagle. He’s brought one of his own into the heart of enemy territory.

Medical training overrides fear. I gesture toward the nearest treatment room. “Put her on the table there.”

He hesitates, eyes darting around the facility as if expecting an ambush. His muscles tense, ready for flight or fight. The rational part of my brain screams that I should be terrified—this is a predator who could kill me with a thought—but instead, I feel a strange calm.

“I’m alone,” I tell him. “No one else is here. And I’m a doctor before I’m anything else.”

Something in my voice must convince him. He moves to the table and gently lays down his burden. As the cloak falls away, I see a young woman with bronze-gold hair matted with blood. Her skin has an ashen cast, and her breathing is shallow. A deep wound mars her arm.

“What happened?” I ask, pulling on gloves and reaching for diagnostic equipment.

“An arrow. From ground-dwellers working with the Dire Wolves.” He swallows hard. “Our healers couldn’t stop the spreading darkness.”

I scan the wound with a handheld medical device. The readings make me inhale sharply. “Toxin in the wound. Some kind of biological agent in the arrowhead.” I look up at him. “Why bring her here? Your people have survived for centuries without our medicine.”

His jaw tightens. “Because she’s my sister. And she’s dying.”

The raw pain in his voice strikes me harder than I expect. I remember my own brother Marcus, how I would do anything to save him if he were injured. This warrior, this enemy, is risking everything for family. It’s the most human thing I’ve witnessed since arriving at the frontier.

“I need to clean the wound, neutralize the toxin, and repair the tissue damage,” I explain, already reaching for supplies. “It will be painful for her.”

“Do what you must.” His eyes never leave his sister’s face. “Her name is Zara.”

I work methodically, cutting away the makeshift bandages to fully expose the wound.

It’s worse than I initially thought—the toxin has spread through her bloodstream, causing tissue necrosis beyond the original injury.

I inject a broad-spectrum antitoxin and begin the delicate process of removing the damaged tissue.

The Storm Eagle leader watches my every move with fierce intensity. I can feel his gaze on my hands as I work, cataloging every technique, every tool I use. Despite his obvious concern, there’s something analytical in his observation. He’s not just a warrior; he’s studying me.

“You’re the leader,” I say quietly as I work. “The golden eagle.”

He doesn’t deny it. “My name is Kael.”

Kael. The name resonates strangely in my mind, familiar somehow despite never having heard it before.

“I’m Dr.Elena Ashford,” I respond, focusing on irrigating the wound with an antibiotic solution. “Though I suspect you already knew that.”

A slight pause. “I’ve seen you before. During the convoy attack.”

“I remember.” I glance up briefly. “You looked right at me before lightning struck the window.”

Something flickers across his face—surprise, perhaps, that I recognized him in eagle form. “That wasn’t meant for you.”

“No?” I ask, returning my attention to his sister’s wound. “Just collateral damage in your war against us?”

His silence is heavy with unspoken justifications.

I don’t press further, concentrating instead on saving his sister’s life.

As I begin the tissue regeneration process, I notice something strange happening—my hands are starting to glow with that same silver-blue light I’ve witnessed in private moments.

I try to hide it, but Kael notices immediately.

“What is that?” he demands, stepping closer.

“I don’t know,” I admit, watching as the glow intensifies around Zara’s wound. “It’s been happening since the convoy attack. When the lightning struck near me, something… changed.”

To my surprise, he doesn’t look shocked or disgusted. Instead, his expression shifts to one of intense curiosity.

“Don’t fight it,” he says quietly. “Let it flow.”

Against my better judgment, I do as he suggests.

I stop trying to suppress the glow and instead allow it to build naturally.

The light spreads from my hands into Zara’s wound, illuminating her veins with a soft blue radiance.

Where it touches, ravaged tissue begins to pink, dead cells regenerating at an impossible rate.

My medical scanner beeps rapidly, struggling to process the readings. “This is impossible,” I whisper, watching tissue knit together under my glowing fingertips.

“Not impossible,” Kael counters. “Just forgotten.”

The healing accelerates as I surrender to the strange power flowing through me. Medical equipment around us begins to behave erratically—monitors flickering, diagnostic tools giving contradictory readings. The air hums with energy that seems to pulse between my hands and Zara’s body.

I’ve never experienced anything like this. It defies everything I know about medicine, about biology, about the limits of human capability. Yet it feels right, as if I’m finally using muscles that have lain dormant my entire life.

Zara’s breathing steadies. Her color improves visibly. The wound, which should have taken weeks to heal, closes before my eyes, leaving only a pale silver line where torn flesh had been minutes before.

When the glow finally fades from my hands, I’m shaking with exhaustion but exhilarated. I’ve just done something that should be scientifically impossible.

“What just happened?” I ask, looking up at Kael.

His golden eyes study me with new intensity. “You’re storm-touched.”

“I’m what?”

“Your genetic heritage. You carry the old bloodlines.” He looks down at his sister, whose breathing has become deep and regular. “I suspected when I first saw you, but I couldn’t be certain.”

I think of the genetic markers I discovered in my own DNA, the similarities to Storm Eagle patterns that I’d dismissed as coincidence or contamination. “That’s impossible. I’m a scientist, a doctor. Not… whatever this is.”

“You can be both,” he says simply.

Zara stirs on the table, her eyelids fluttering. When they open, I find myself looking into eyes the same golden shade as her brother’s. She glances between us, confusion evident in her expression.

“Kael?” Her voice is weak but clear. “Where are we?”

“Safe,” he tells her, taking her hand. “You’re going to be fine.”

Her gaze shifts to me, sharpening with recognition despite never having seen me before. “You’re her,” she whispers. “The one he?—”

“Rest,” Kael interrupts. “We’ll talk when you’re stronger.”

Something passes between the siblings—an unspoken communication that reminds me of their avian nature. Zara nods slightly and closes her eyes again, though I sense she’s still awake, listening.

I step back from the table, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I’ve made myself. I’ve just revealed abilities I barely understand to the enemy, healed someone who will likely return to attacking our settlements. What’s worse, I’ve done it willingly, even eagerly.

“What happens now?” I ask, keeping my voice steady despite my racing thoughts.

Kael straightens to his full height, and I’m reminded again of his predatory nature. He could kill me in an instant if he chose to—snap my neck, stop my heart with a bolt of lightning. Instead, he steps back, giving me space.

“Now I owe you a life debt,” he says formally. “In Storm Eagle tradition, saving the life of clan family creates a bond that cannot be broken.”

I hadn’t expected this response. “I don’t want a debt. I’m a doctor. I heal because that’s what I do.”

“Nevertheless, the debt exists.” His gaze is steady, intense. “And there’s more. You’ve awakened something in yourself tonight that can’t be put back to sleep. The storm-touch in your blood has been activated.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re in danger from both sides now,” he answers grimly. “Your people would fear these abilities if they knew. Mine would see you as a threat—or worse, a resource to be exploited.”

A chill runs through me as I realize he’s right. Haven’s Heart views anything unexplainable as a potential weapon. If they discovered what I just did, I’d be removed from the field immediately, subjected to endless tests, possibly confined for “security reasons.”

“No one can know about this,” I say, glancing at the security cameras I disabled earlier in the night during my private research.

“Agreed.” He studies me for a long moment. “I’ll return for Zara tomorrow night. She needs rest before she can travel.”

“You’re leaving her here? With me?” I can’t hide my surprise.

“You saved her life. You won’t harm her now.” It’s not a question but a statement of absolute certainty. “And I must return to the aerie before my absence is noticed. There are… political complications.”

I don’t ask for details. The less I know about Storm Eagle politics, the better for everyone involved.

“I’ll keep her hidden,” I promise. “But you’re taking an enormous risk.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Not my first.”

He moves to leave, then pauses, turning back. “The convoy raids. You should know they’re not meant to harm civilians. We take what we need to survive, nothing more.”

“Tell that to the people I’ve treated for lightning burns and talon wounds,” I reply, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

“War has casualties,” he says, not unkindly. “But genocide is not our goal.”

“What is your goal, then?”

He considers me for a long moment. “Survival. Same as yours.”

With that, he moves toward the door with silent grace. Just before he reaches it, he turns once more. “Tomorrow night. I’ll bring something in exchange for your help.”

“I don’t want payment,” I insist.

“Not payment. Knowledge.” His eyes lock with mine. “About what you are. What you might become.”

Then he’s gone, disappearing into the darkness beyond the door as silently as he arrived.

I stand motionless, processing what just happened. The enemy leader brought his sister to me for healing. I manifested impossible abilities. And now I’m harboring a Storm Eagle in my medical facility.

I glance at Zara, who has drifted into genuine sleep, her breathing deep and regular. Looking at her human form—young, vulnerable, so unlike the deadly predators that attack our settlements—complicates everything I thought I knew about this conflict.

Moving quickly, I transfer her to a private recovery room reserved for quarantine cases. No one enters this room without my direct authorization. I adjust the facility’s security logs to show no anomalies, then return to my desk, mind racing with implications.

What am I? Storm-touched, Kael called it. The word feels right in a way I can’t explain, resonating with something deep within me. I’ve spent my life understanding others through science, through observable data and logical analysis. Now I find myself the greatest mystery of all.

I should report this encounter immediately. My duty to Haven’s Heart demands it. But something stops me—the memory of silver-blue light flowing from my hands, the feeling of rightness as I healed Zara, the strange sense of recognition when I looked into Kael’s golden eyes.

For the first time in my career, I chose to keep silent. To wait. To learn.

Dawn will arrive in a few hours, bringing with it my colleagues and the daily routine of the settlement. I will perform my duties, treat patients, attend meetings—all while guarding the secret sleeping in the quarantine room. And tomorrow night, Kael will return with answers about what I truly am.

I look down at my hands, remembering the glow that emanated from them. Whatever happens next, I’ve crossed a line tonight from which there’s no returning. I’ve healed an enemy, hidden her presence, and agreed to meet her brother again.

But the most dangerous thing of all? I’m looking forward to it.