Caught by the Mad Alpha King Chapter 78: Lucky

The doctor didn’t respond. The wand pressed lightly, and the soft hum deepened as images began appearing on the screen, gray and white patterns shifting in real ti. Chris couldn’t look. He didn’t want to see what a decade of suppressants had done.

After a while, the physician said softly, "There’s no permanent damage."

Chris blinked. "What?"

"No scarring," the doctor clarified, voice gentle. "The tissue’s irritated, yes. So swelling. But it’s recoverable. You’re lucky."

Lucky.

Chris almost laughed again, but the sound got stuck sowhere in his chest. He turned his head toward the wall, blinking hard against the pressure behind his eyes. "Lucky’s not the word I’d use."

"Still," the doctor said, "it could have been worse."

He finished the scan in silence. The machine’s hum faded, the wand clicked against the tray, and the soft sound of gloves being discarded filled the air.

Chris pushed himself up on his elbows, wiping at his face before realizing he’d sared a line of gel along his wrist. "That’s it?"

"For today," the doctor said. "You’ll be sore. Drink plenty of water, rest, and avoid any more suppressants. Ever."

Chris managed a thin smile. "That’s the plan."

He didn’t wait for the doctor to help him stand; he needed to do that part alone. His legs trembled a little, but he got there, pulling his clothes together with trembling hands.

When he finally looked up, he caught his reflection in the dark surface of the monitor, hair mussed, skin pale, and pupils blown wide from adrenaline. A stranger who looked almost fragile.

He didn’t like it.

The physician lingered by the door, waiting. "One more thing. When was your last heat?"

Chris stopped and took a minute to process the question, the physician thinking that Chris was probably calculating. "Never."

The physician blinked, visibly thrown. "Never?"

Chris shrugged, a jerky, defensive motion. "Never." His voice ca out too flat, too quick, as if he could make the word less strange by refusing to think about it.

The doctor hesitated, stylus hovering over his tablet. "You’re saying you’ve never had a recorded heat cycle since secondary gender manifestation?"

"Not recorded, not unrecorded, not anything," Chris said, already tugging at the edge of his sleeve like he could pull the conversation off him. "The suppressants worked a little too well, apparently."

"Are you sure? No symptoms?" The physician looked at Chris like he was so new pet at the zoo.

Chris gave a sharp smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Oh, plenty of symptoms," he said. "Just not the kind anyone would put in a dical file."

The physician blinked, uncertain whether that was sarcasm or confession. "Even if the suppressants worked," he said carefully, "that’s still... unnatural. Prolonged inhibition at that dosage can alter receptor developnt. It’s not only hormonal; it affects the brain’s regulatory pathways. You shouldn’t have been able to suppress full cycles for this long without intervention."

Chris’s stomach turned at the word ’shouldn’t.’ He forced a shrug. "Guess I’m just dedicated."

The doctor didn’t smile. "No," he said quietly. "You’re lucky. It’s a miracle you haven’t collapsed or triggered an induced heat from withdrawal."

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, his voice thinning around the edges of humor. "That’s an option? Fantastic. Sothing else to look forward to."

"Your Highness will need to be inford," the physician continued, professional but gentler now. "We’ll have to keep you under dical observation for the next few weeks. Regular vitals, lab monitoring, and psychological adjustnt. Your system has no baseline to return to...we’ll have to build one from scratch."

Chris’s hands tightened at his sides. "First of all, I’m not royalty and second, you make sound like a broken machine."

"That’s not what I ant." The doctor hesitated, lowering the tablet slightly, but ignored Chris’s denial at being royalty now. "I an that your body’s forgotten how to be what it is. That’s not your fault. But it does an we’ll have to be careful."

Chris stared at him for a long mont, the weight of those words landing like stones in his chest. Forgotten how to be what it is.

He could have laughed or cursed; instead, he exhaled through his nose, tired and small. "Careful," he repeated. "Right. I’m everyone’s favorite safety hazard."

The physician’s expression softened. "You’ll be assigned a private nurse, at least temporarily. Soone trained to handle heat suppression withdrawal and hormonal recalibration."

Chris’s eyes narrowed. "You an a babysitter."

"If that makes it easier to accept, then yes," the doctor said without irony.

That earned him a reluctant snort. Chris dragged a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in ssy defiance. "You people really don’t know when to stop, do you?"

"I wish we didn’t have to," the doctor said honestly. "But I’d rather keep you monitored than read about a dical ergency in the palace wing and staff killed by a mad dominant alpha."

"Cheerful." Chris turned toward the door, eager to escape the sterile air and its too-clean brightness. "We done?"

The physician hesitated, then nodded. "For now. Drink more water, eat regularly, and..."

"...don’t take anything I buy from ghost clinics, I know."

"Exactly." The doctor’s voice softened again. "Your Highness... it isn’t weakness to let your body heal."

Chris didn’t answer. He just adjusted his jacket, paused with his hand on the handle, and said quietly, "Then let’s hope it learns fast."

When he stepped out, Dax was right where he’d left him, standing tall beside the frosted glass, jacket unbuttoned, arms folded. His head lifted the instant the door opened.

Chris didn’t realize how pale he looked until he saw Dax’s expression shift.

"Finished?" Dax asked, voice low, careful.

Chris nodded, the gesture too sharp. "Apparently, I’m a dical anomaly. You can add that to my list of achievents."

Sothing flickered across Dax’s eyes, concern, quickly buried under calm. He stepped closer, just enough for his voice to reach. "You’re exhausted."

"Observant," Chris said dryly, and then softer, "I’m fine. Just want to leave before soone suggests running more tests."

Dax held his gaze a mont longer, then turned slightly, gesturing for Rowan to stay behind with the staff. "Co on."

As they walked down the corridor, the scent of antiseptic faded into polished marble and distant flowers, but the echo of the doctor’s words stayed lodged sowhere behind Chris’s ribs. ’Your body’s forgotten how to be what it is.’

He hated how true it sounded.

And he hated that Dax, walking quietly beside him, was the only one who seed to notice.