Chapter 302 Dr. Chatmory
Dr. Chatmory clicked off his handheld dictaphone with a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had just started the recording again when the heavy wooden door to his private office didn't just open; it was shoved inward with a quiet, terrifying force.
Two men stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind them until the lock clicked. They were dressed in impeccably tailored suits, but they moved with a predatory, silent grace that immediately made the hair on the back of Chatmory's neck stand up.
"Why was the elemental brought to this hospital?" the lead man asked, skipping any pretense of a greeting. His voice was smooth, but laced with absolute, chilling command.
Dr. Chatmory frowned, his professional pride bristling against his ingrained fear. He knew enough about the supernatural world lurking in the shadows of his city to recognize trouble, but he refused to be intimidated in his own office. He sat up straighter, crossing his arms over his white coat.
"I have absolutely no idea what an 'elemental' is," Chatmory snapped, adjusting his glasses. "But more importantly, do you gentlemen know what doctor-patient confidentiality is? Furthermore, this is a human hospital. Whatever authority you think you have, you hold none here. I suggest you leave my office before I call security."
The Council member smiled, but the expression didn't reach his cold, dead eyes. "Security won't make it down this hallway, Doctor. And our authority extends exactly as far as we decide it does."
The argument escalated quickly. Chatmory stubbornly hid behind human laws and medical ethics, until the Council member finally lost his patience. The man didn't yell; he simply moved faster than humanly possible.
The five-finger persuader came in the form of a massive, vice-like grip closing tightly around Chatmory's throat.
The doctor was violently yanked up and slammed back against the wall behind his desk, his chair skidding away. His feet dangled an inch off the floor. He clawed frantically at the thick fingers crushing his windpipe, his face turning a mottled shade of purple as the Council member leaned in close, his eyes flashing a dangerous, unnatural silver.
"Let's try this one more time, Doctor," the man whispered, his breath hot against Chatmory's face. "Why. Was. The elemental. Here?"
"I swear to God, I don't know what you're talking about!" Chatmory choked out, his survival instinct completely overriding his Hippocratic Oath. He gasped for air as the grip loosened just a fraction. "I don't know any elemental! I only know Jax! I've treated his pack members before!"
The Council member's eyes narrowed slightly, his grip tightening again. "The Beta of the Blackwood territory brought the elemental here?"
"I don't know about an elemental!" Chatmory wheezed, his legs kicking weakly. "He brought his mate in! A human named Ginny! She was poisoned! And Leela was with them! Jax introduced them to me! They are the only ones who were here!"
The Council member stared at him for a long, heavy moment before suddenly releasing his grip. Chatmory collapsed back into his chair in a heap, coughing violently and rubbing his bruised neck as he dragged in desperate lungfuls of air.
The Council member calmly straightened his tie and smoothed the lapels of his suit jacket. He looked down at the doctor with utter disdain, finally putting the pieces together. The elemental was here, traveling under the protection of the Blackwood Beta and his human mate.
"We want copies of everything before we leave this hospital," the man stated coldly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Every chart, every blood test, every dictated note regarding the woman named Ginny."
He leaned across the desk, planting his knuckles on the polished wood. "And from this moment forward, Doctor, you will inform us the very second Jax, Leela, or that human step foot back in this building. Do we have an understanding?"Dr. Chatmory, visibly shaken and still trembling from the brutal assault, stared up at the two predators invading his space. He swallowed hard, wincing at the sharp, throbbing pain in his bruised windpipe.
"I... I can't," Chatmory rasped, clinging desperately to the last shred of his professional integrity. "That's... that's against my ethics."
Both men leaned in closer, their looming, terrifying presence completely suffocating the small office.
The second Council member, who had remained entirely silent until now, slowly reached out across the desk. He deliberately, mockingly tapped his fingers against the side of the doctor's pale, sweat-slicked face.
"From now on, Doctor... you have no ethics," the second man murmured, his voice a silken, lethal threat. He paused, his icy eyes locking onto Chatmory's terrified gaze, emphasizing every single word. "Do... we... have... an... understanding?"
"Ye—ye—sss, sir," Dr. Chatmory stammered, his defiance completely shattering under the crushing weight of their dominance.
The two men looked at him and smiled, a chilling, synchronized baring of teeth that held no warmth whatsoever.
"Yeah," the first man said, straightening up and smoothly buttoning his suit jacket. "I thought you'd see it our way."
The heavy wooden door clicked shut, sealing Dr. Chatmory back inside his private office. For a long, agonizing minute, he didn't dare move. He just sat there, listening to the deafening silence, his heart hammering against his bruised ribs like a trapped bird.
Once he was absolutely certain the heavy, suffocating presence of the High Council members had faded from the hallway, he let out a long, shuddering breath. His hands were shaking so violently he could barely reach down to open the bottom drawer of his desk.
He fumbled past a stack of blank prescription pads and a spare stethoscope, finally wrapping his trembling fingers around a sleek, metallic vape pen. He brought it to his lips, his abused throat protesting the movement, and inhaled a long, deep drag.
The thick cloud of vapor filled his lungs, the heavy scent masking the lingering, unnatural chill those men had dragged into his office. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke swirl and dissipate toward the ceiling as his racing pulse finally began to settle into a dull, terrifying rhythm.
He slumped back into his leather chair, closing his eyes against the throbbing ache in his neck.
"Who says smoking doesn't ease the nerves," Chatmory muttered to the empty room, his voice a raspy, defeated whisper.
His hands were still shaking as he reached across the polished wood of his desk, his fingers closing around the large, brightly colored water bottle his wife had made for him. It had little motivational quotes and time markers painted on the side to remind him to drink enough water throughout the day.
She didn't know that some days—specifically his days off—those little markers measured out chilled vodka instead. She would absolutely kill him if she ever found out.
But right now, feeling the cold plastic against his trembling palm and the phantom pressure of supernatural fingers still lingering on his windpipe, Chatmory squeezed his eyes shut. Damn, he thought, taking a long, utterly unsatisfying gulp. He really wished it held vodka today instead of pure spring mineral water.