Third person's POV
Alvin froze, panic rising. "Sorry, Alpha Derek's delirious," he blurted, terrified of offending Doctor Venessa.
"Get his clothes off and put him in the tub," Tabitha instructed, turning away to sort herbs.
"Fully?" Alvin asked, unsure.
"Fully," Tabitha confirmed, her voice flat.
Alvin hesitated, then stripped Derek bare.
Tabitha's mind flashed with memories of Derek's body—the same one she'd once known intimately.
Compared to when she'd left, Derek's physique was more muscular.
When she'd gripped his waist earlier, she'd distinctly felt the elasticity and definition of his muscles.
Now, with his clothes removed, several new scars were visible across his chest.
She'd watched him from afar over the years, always avoiding contact, always ensuring she remained invisible to him.
Several times over the years, Derek had nearly crossed paths with Tabitha during missions. Each time, she deliberately stayed out of his way.
Once she decided to walk out of his life, she aimed to vanish completely.
If not for learning of his poisoning, she wouldn't be here now.
"Ready," Alvin said.
"Keep the fire going. Let him steep for thirty minutes," Tabitha ordered, handing him a lid. "Cover him." She planned to sweat the toxins out—a makeshift detox bath.
Nearby, Hedwig fanned the flames with a small bamboo whisk, her tiny figure surrounded by fluttering butterflies.
Tabitha gathered her into her lap, wiping sweat from her brow.
"Let me handle this. Your hands are hurt. Go play."
Hedwig shook her head, eyes fixed on Derek.
Tabitha understood—Hedwig had pieced together that Derek resembled Ayla and Helios, deducing he was their father.
But Tabitha hadn't told her the truth—that Ayla and Helios had a different father.
It was her fault, Tabitha knew.
She'd saved Hedwig's life but couldn't erase her origins.
"It's okay. I'm here," Tabitha soothed. "Help Alma with something, will you?"
Hedwig pressed a kiss to Tabitha's cheek, then left reluctantly, glancing back every few steps.
"Mom's here. Dad will be fine," she thought.
Derek's senses were dulling. The tub wasn't hot—it felt more like floating in a void.
Every few minutes, he murmured "Tabitha," the name a mantra on his lips.
"Dr. Vanessa, thirty minutes up," Alvin announced.
Tabitha brought over a vial of medicine. "First dose. Get this down him."
"Should I pull him out?"
"Yes. Start with ten minutes at a time. Increase gradually. Keep him hydrated."
"Continue the baths?"
"No dialysis here. This is just support. The real cure is in the antidote."
Alvin brightened. "Thanks! I'll feed him now."
Tabitha laid out fresh furs and fetched a blanket.
Alvin called for help moving Derek. "Can you give me a hand? I can't lift him alone."
Tabitha cursed her earlier decision to send Rolf away.
Now she had to manage alone.
Treat him like any patient, she told herself.
"On three," she said.
They heaved Derek from the tub.
Tabitha kept her eyes averted.
Derek radiated heat, his body glistening with a mix of medicinal steam and sweat, his complexion slightly improved from before.
"Easy now," Alvin cautioned, supporting Derek with care.
Tabitha moved gently, but the path was uneven.
Alvin stumbled, and Derek's body slid downward, pressing Tabitha into the furs as if she were a pinned butterfly.
Naked and unguarded, Derek mumbled, "Tabitha."
Alvin's face burned crimson.
"I'm so sorry! Dr. Vanessa."
Tabitha, struggling beneath Derek's weight, managed to shift him and cover him with the blanket.
She patted her damp clothes, feigning calm. "Just get the medicine into him."
"Yes."
Alvin tilted Derek's head back, pouring the bitter liquid into his mouth. It dribbled down his chin.
"He might not swallow," Alvin said urgently. "His senses are shot. How do I get him to take this?"
Tabitha frowned.
In a real hospital, they'd tube-feed him.
Here? Improvisation was key.
Hedwig's blood only bought him time—it wouldn't cure the poison.
If they kept stalling, even an antidote wouldn't save Derek.
"His fiancée—bring her. Have her feed him mouth-to-mouth."
Alvin balked. "No way."