The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 178

Alaric

"I heard voices, arguing." Sage murmurs, eyes finally opening to confirm my presence. And even in the midst of the chaos around us, the sparkling amethyst pools take my breath away.

"Cassius and Daphne," I confirm quietly, my position shielding her from the connecting doorway where their conflict continues with decreased volume but undiminished intensity. "Disagreement about current arrangements."

Understanding dawns in her expression – the implications of their conflict registering the same conclusion I already came to. For the first time in days, I see hope flare in her eyes, a wicked smirk pulling at her lips despite everything she;s been through. And I’d do anything to keep that look on her face.

The medical chamber door opens, interrupting our silent communication as an older doctor enters to assess my mate. His professional detachment carries something almost like sympathy as he notes our silent communication, awareness of our situation evident beneath his clinical exterior.

"Your vital signs have stabilized remarkably well," he notes, reviewing monitor readings with practiced efficiency. "The treatment appears to have prevented permanent damage from the rejection episode."

"When can she be moved?" I ask, the question only partially disguised beneath medical concern.

The doctor's measured response suggests I wasn’t as subtle as I’d hoped to be. "The primary threat has passed, but the remaining treatment requires specialized equipment unavailable in standard facilities."

His emphasis on "standard facilities" carries an undercurrent – information offered, intelligence shared with careful precision that avoids direct disloyalty to his employer while acknowledging our imprisonment's unjust nature.

"What specialized equipment?" I press, sensing an opportunity in the doctor's carefully measured disclosure.

"The regenerative chamber in the eastern medical wing," he explains, gaze briefly meeting mine with significance beyond words. "The prescribed treatment protocols will require a temporary suspension of certain... security parameters... to allow the equipment to function properly."

The information registers immediately – though cassius will lead us to believe all security measures are still in place, this man just risked everything to assure us otherwise. But can we trust him, or is this just another trap?

I feel Sage's awareness follow the same strategic assessment, her hand squeezing mine to communicate understanding without words that might find their way to her captor.

"How soon can this treatment begin?" I ask, the question structured to continue gathering information without obvious intent.

"Tomorrow morning," the doctor responds, his professional demeanor maintained while his eyes communicate more than words express. "Assuming no complications arise."

The opportunity crystallizes with perfect clarity – temporary security reduction, a brief window when outside forces might actually be able to penetrate this fortress. If I can find a way to let them know. Shared understanding flows between Sage and me – not certainty of escape, but potential for such a possibility.

"Rest is essential before treatment," the doctor continues, adjusting a medication drip with practiced efficiency. "Complete recovery requires uninterrupted sleep."

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