Chapter 17 Chapter 0017
•CASSANDRA•
The first week at Dante’s clinic passed in a blur. I kept my head down, focused on learning as much as I could.
I didn't want to take the opportunity that Dante gave me for granted.
That Monday morning, the hospital was buzzing. Most of the senior surgeons were in the main operating theater, working on a complicated heart transplant that had been scheduled for weeks.
The emergency department didn’t have enough doctors to attend to patients, and everyone was trying to assist as many patients as they could.
“Code Blue, Trauma Bay 3. All available physicians to Trauma Bay 3!”
I froze for a second, then grabbed my stethoscope and hurried down the hall. By the time I reached the bay, a team of nurses and a resident were already working on the patient.
He was a man in his late fifties, broad-shouldered and pale, lying on the gurney with blood soaking through his shirt. The monitors screamed warnings: blood pressure crashing, heart rate erratic.
The resident, a young doctor named Mark, was shouting orders. “Push another liter of fluids! Get me two units of O-neg! Where’s the ultrasound?”
One of the nurses glanced up as I stepped in. “Dr. Frost, you’re not supposed to be here. This is beyond your scope.”
I ignored her and moved to the patient’s side. “What happened?”
“Motorcycle accident,” Mark answered without looking up. “Multiple rib fractures, probable hemothorax, and possible aortic injury. We’re waiting for CT, but he’s decompensating fast.”
The patient’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and terrified. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
I placed my hand on his chest and felt the shallow rise and fall, the way his body was fighting to stay alive.
I knew what was happening. The blood was pooling in his chest, compressing his lungs and heart.
If they didn’t relieve the pressure soon, he would die. The surgeons were all in the OR.
The next available doctor was at least twenty minutes away if they called for backup from the city hospital.
I looked at Mark. “He needs a chest tube. Now.”
Mark shook his head. “We don’t have time for that. We’re stabilizing him for transfer.”
“He won’t make it to transfer,” I answered. “I can do it. I’ve done it before.”
The nurses exchanged glances. One of them, a woman named Linda, who had been cool to me since day one, crossed her arms. “Cassandra, you’re not even board-certified here. You got this job because of Dr. Dante. You’re not touching him.”
Another nurse, younger, whispered, “She’s not a surgeon. She’s barely a doctor.”
I felt the familiar sting of their words, but I pushed them aside. The patient’s monitor alarm went off again. His oxygen saturation was dropping. I didn’t have time to argue.
I stepped forward and grabbed the sterile chest tube kit from the cart. “I’m doing this. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to physically pull me away.”
Mark hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But we’re documenting everything.”
I worked quickly. The patient was too weak to fight. I cleaned the site, numbed the area, and made the incision.
My hands were steady, the way they had been when I used to heal pack members in secret. This wasn’t wolf healing, but the knowledge was the same.
I slid the tube in, connected it to suction, and watched the blood pour out into the collection chamber.
The change was immediate. The patient’s oxygen levels climbed. His blood pressure stabilized, and the monitors quieted.
The room went silent except for the soft hiss of the suction.
I stepped back, took off my gloves, and looked at the patient. His color was returning, and he was breathing easier.
Linda stared at me, eyes wide. “How did you do that?”
I didn’t answer. I just turned and walked out of the bay to wash my hands.
My heart was pounding, but not from fear. It was the old thrill of saving someone, the feeling I had missed more than I realized.
Behind me, the whispers started.
“She shouldn’t have done that.”
“She’s not qualified.”
“Did you see how fast she worked? It’s not normal.”
“I’ve heard stories about people like her. They use… other methods.”
“Dark magic, maybe. She healed him too quickly.”
I kept my back to them, letting the water run over my hands until it turned cold.
I had heard worse in Silvercrest. Traitor, witch, murderer. The words were different here, but the tone was the same.
When I finally turned around, Linda and two other nurses were huddled near the door. They stopped talking when they saw me.
I walked past them without a word and headed to the break room. I needed a moment to breathe.
An hour later, Dante found me in my office. He looked tired.
“I heard what happened,” he said, closing the door behind him.
I nodded. “I couldn’t let him die.”
He sat in the chair across from me. “You saved his life. The surgeons are still in the OR, but the patient is stable. They’ll be moving him to the ICU soon.”
I waited for the reprimand. It didn’t come.
Instead, Dante leaned forward. “The nurses are upset. They said you ignored protocol and that they tried to stop you.”
“They did,” I admitted. “I didn’t listen.”
He smiled faintly. “Good thing you didn’t.”
I looked up at him. “They think I used dark magic to heal him. I mean, how could they think that? You must believe me, Dante, I didn't use wolf healing."
Dante’s expression darkened. “They’re scared because they don’t understand. You did what any good doctor would do in that situation. You acted when no one else could.”
He stood up. “Stay here. I need to handle this.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he was gone.
Thirty minutes later, the intercom crackled. “All available staff to the conference room on the second floor. Repeat, all available staff to the conference room on the second floor.”
I knew what this was about.
When I walked into the room, it was packed. Nurses, techs, residents, and even some of the cleaning staff. Dante stood at the front, waiting.
He spotted me and motioned for me to come forward.
I hesitated, but he insisted. I walked to the front and stood beside him.
Dante cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming. I know we’re short-staffed today, so I’ll make this quick.”
He looked around the room. “This morning in Trauma Bay 3, a patient arrived in critical condition. The on-call surgeons were unavailable. The patient was dying. Dr. Cassandra Frost stepped in, performed an emergency chest tube insertion, and stabilized him. He is now in the ICU and expected to recover.”
Murmurs rippled through the room.
Dante continued. “Some of you have concerns about Dr. Frost’s qualifications and her methods. Let me be clear. Dr. Frost is a fully licensed physician with years of experience in emergency and trauma care."
He turned to me. “Cassandra, welcome officially to the team. Your office is ready, and your name is already on the schedule as attending physician in the emergency department.”