Tabitha's fingers paused as she recalled how Derek had once barely flinched from a gunshot wound, yet now he acted as fragile as a glass doll, each breath cautious and restrained.
"For the next two days, try to keep this wound dry," she said softly, tearing off a piece of medical tape. "Let me help you back to bed."
Derek abruptly pushed her hand away and sat up, leaning against the bedside table.
The mattress creaked beneath him, and his heartbeat thundered—not from weakness, but from the faint lavender scent clinging to her, identical to the pillow fragrance he remembered.
Tabitha caught his taut wrist.
"Derek Moriarty," she warned, using his full name—a name that sent a jolt through him, almost slipping out with "I knew it was you," but catching himself with a sigh.
"Sorry," he muttered.
Steam from the chicken soup blurred the air between them.
Tabitha blew on the spoonful of soup before offering it to him. Her silver bracelet slid down to her forearm—the very one he'd gifted her for her twentieth birthday, engraved with "T&D."
Derek's fingers curled into his palm, nails digging into his flesh to resist touching her.
"The soup has valerian root and echinacea," Tabitha said abruptly, her gaze drifting to the window. "Good for reducing inflammation."
Derek noticed her ears were slightly red, recalling how she used to add an extra sugar cube to her coffee because he'd once said, "Only fools like bitter things."
Her careful demeanor mirrored the girl who once sweetened his whisky with honey in secret.
They ate in silence, the atmosphere unexpectedly harmonious.
When Tabitha left, she had resolved never to cross paths with Derek again.
In her quieter moments, she had occasionally daydreamed about an inevitable reunion, but never had she envisioned it unfolding like this.
Derek, once a aloof and brilliant scholar, now seemed like a well-behaved child, eager to recover.
He endured every form of contact and treatment with patience, whether it meant taking medicine or feeding himself, cooperating fully without causing any trouble.
Given his discomfort today, Tabitha stayed to monitor his condition, ready to adjust the dosage or change the medicine.
His body still harbored residual toxins that required her vigilance.
She suspected the discomfort stemmed from an overdose of medication but feared reducing it might let the toxins run rampant. The old method was still the safest path.
"Let's head back to the cave. It's the only way to minimize the side effects and flush out the toxins quickly," she said.
"I'll follow your lead," Derek replied.
As Derek summoned Alvin to return to the cave, Rolf burst in dramatically, kneeling before Tabitha and clutching her legs as he wailed.
Tabitha instinctively stepped back but was halted by Derek's sudden grip on her shoulder—his palm blazing through her thin shirt.
"Let her go," Derek's voice was ice-cold, yet softened instantly at Tabitha's startled glance.
"Please, Dr. Vanessa, check on Miss Dalton! I know she's sharp-tongued and offended you, but she's bedridden now. If anything happens to her, I won't be able to get back to the States!"
Rolf pleaded, only daring to speak ill of Misha in her absence.
Tabitha's eyes flickered with intrigue. Who was this Misha?
Rolf and Alvin's wary attitudes suggested she held significant influence.
The Misha family was merely mid-tier in Seattle—hardly commanding such respect.
Derek finally inquired coolly, "What's happened?"
"After your words yesterday, she stormed off and fell ill. She can't even get out of bed today."
Rolf omitted Hedwig's encounter, knowing better than to mention it in Tabitha's presence.
Derek frowned. "Send her back to Seattle. There are plenty of doctors there to treat her."
He'd always treated Misha like a child, offering care where he could.
He'd saved her on a whim, never expecting her relentless pursuit.
During his missions, she would insist on tagging along. Back then, considering her youth, Derek assumed she sought field experience for future advancement. Coupled with her selfless act of donating blood for him in critical moments, Derek had taken her under his wing, offering support and guidance.
As she grew older and her feelings for him became undeniable, Derek had claimed a wife to keep her at bay.
After years of quiet, her resurgence following his public rejection of Misha was no surprise.
Despite his repeated rejections, she persisted, draining his patience and disregarding even his mentor's authority.
Alvin interjected. "Alpha Derek, if we send her back untreated, the higher-ups might hold you accountable."
"She brought this on herself. Let her suffer," Derek stated coldly.