Docks, Doctors, and New Best Friends

The car rolled to a smooth stop outside Phoenix Tower, the sleek black exterior of the building reflecting the city lights in long, sharp streaks.

Inside, the atmosphere was buzzing—security personnel, corporate elites, and the faint hum of high-powered deals being made behind closed doors.

Leah stepped out first, stretching slightly as she adjusted her jacket. Ava followed, arms crossed, eyes sharp, already clocking the room like she owned it.

Ross and James stood waiting.

James gave them both a once-over before sighing, the long-suffering kind of exhale that said he knew this would be a headache.

"Alright, children, playtime's over. We've got assignments."

Leah arched a brow. "Assignments?"

James tilted his head toward Ross. "Leah, you're getting dragged to the docks for a supply chain check."

Ross, standing next to him in his usual unshakable bodyguard stance, gave a short nod. "Voss's orders."

Leah groaned. "Great. More numbers. Just what I wanted."

Ross didn't blink. "And a doctor's visit first."

Leah froze.

Her eyes snapped to Ross.

"Excuse me?"

Ross, still calm as ever: "Doctor first. Then docks."

Ava snorted, clapping Leah on the back.

"Damn, girl. You've barely been here, and they're already worried about your warranty expiring."

Leah shot her a withering glare. "I don't need a doctor."

Ross's expression didn't change. "That's what sick people say."

James leaned slightly toward Ava, stage-whispering: "You're lucky. You get to go to the command room."

Ava's brows shot up.

Her grin turned wicked. "Oh? Are we making it official?"

James, deadpan: "What?"

Ava elbowed him lightly. "You said command room. Sounds very serious. Are we gonna be command buddies now?"

James gave her a long look.

Then exhaled. "Unfortunately."

Ava grinned. "Aww, look at us. Bonding already."

Ross turned back to Leah, ever patient.

"Doctor."

Leah crossed her arms, not moving.

"Not happening."

Ross just stood there. Waiting.

The kind of waiting that meant this wasn't a debate.

Ava smirked. "Ross, be honest. Are you actually a bodyguard, or do you just specialize in babysitting?"

Ross's expression didn't flicker. "Babysitting pays better."

Leah groaned again, dragging a hand down her face.

"Fine. But if this guy so much as waves a needle near me, I'm out."

Ross, already turning toward the car: "Noted."

Ava, grinning as she followed James: "Leah, if they find anything wrong with you, can I have your jackets?"

Leah flipped her off without looking back.

Moments later Leah was standing inside the medical bay inside Phoenix Tower was clean, cold, and sterile—exactly the kind of place Leah hated.

She sat on the exam table, arms crossed, expression flat, as the doctor—a thin, sharp-featured man with half-moon glasses and zero patience for nonsense— prepped his tools.

Ross stood by the door, arms folded, silent but impossible to ignore.

The doctor—Dr. Elias Caine, according to his badge— barely glanced at Leah as he snapped on a pair of gloves.

"Vitals first."

Leah sighed, already bored.

"Let's skip to the part where you declare me alive and let me leave."

Dr. Caine didn't even blink.

He strapped a monitor to her wrist, ignoring her completely.

The screen flashed a series of numbers.

He frowned.

"Your blood pressure is low."

Leah shrugged. "It's called stress."

Ross, deadpan from the corner: "You should eat more."

Leah shot him a glare. "You sound like my grandmother."

Ross didn't move. "Your grandmother was right."

Dr. Caine continued, completely ignoring the conversation.

He checked her pupils, pressed a scanner to her chest, and took precisely five seconds to examine the results before moving on.

"How's your sleep?"

Leah tilted her head. "Wouldn't know. Haven't done much of it lately."

Dr. Caine's eyes flicked to Ross. "She's overworked."

Ross tilted his head slightly. "She's stubborn."

Leah rolled her eyes.

"Are we diagnosing me or gossiping?"

Dr. Caine finally looked at her. Really looked.

And frowned.

"Your biomarkers are off."

Leah stiffened.

But kept her expression neutral.

"Elaborate."

Dr. Caine scanned the results again, lips pressing thin.

"Your system is running on reserves. You're low on stabilizers—specifically genetic regulators. That's… not normal. I've never seen anyone this bad."

Ross's eyes narrowed slightly.

But Leah just shrugged.

"I'm fine."

Dr. Caine's gaze sharpened.

"You shouldn't be."

Leah didn't answer.

Didn't move.

Dr. Caine sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Fine. Blood draw. Then you can leave."

Leah hated this part.

The vials clinked against the tray as Dr. Caine set up the collection kit.

Ross, still unreadable, just watched.

Like he already knew she was going to hate this.

And he was right.

Leah tensed as the needle slid under her skin.

Not from pain.

But from habit.

Blood tests weren't just tests.

Not for people like her.

Dr. Caine hummed under his breath as the syringe filled with deep red.

"Ever had your DND sequenced?"

Leah's pulse jumped.

But she kept her expression still.

"No."

Dr. Caine arched a brow.

"Unusual. Most registered Omegas are required to have at least one full sequencing on record."

Leah smiled—all teeth, no warmth.

"Good thing I'm not registered."

Dr. Caine's brows lifted slightly, but he didn't comment.

Just switched vials, filled another.

Then another.

Leah watched her own blood swirl, thick and dark, in the glass.

Memories rose, uninvited.

The drip, drip, drip of a stolen life.

The cold grip of needles and sterile walls.

The feeling of being used, drained, discarded.

She inhaled slowly.

Dr. Caine pulled the needle free, pressing a cloth to the puncture.

"I'll run the analysis."

He glanced at Ross. "Results in an hour."

Leah swung her legs off the table, rolling down her sleeve.

"Can't wait."

Ross stepped aside as she walked past him, his voice calm and even.

"Lets get you some rest first. Results won't take that long."

Leah stepped into Voss's private quarters and stopped.

Her eyes flicked over the room—clean, sharp, minimal—but that wasn't what caught her attention.

It was the wall.

Or more specifically—

The weapons.

A full arsenal stretched across one side of the room.

Polished, pristine, lined with absolute precision.

Each firearm had its own place.

Each blade sat perfectly balanced.

This wasn't just a collection.

It was a statement.

A legacy in steel and gunpowder.

Leah stepped closer, fingers grazing the air just above a modified pulse rifle.

Military-issue. Older, but still effective.

She smirked. "Didn't peg him for a sentimental type."

Her eyes drifted lower.

A sidearm—compact, lethal, and well-worn.

She knew that model.

Knew the kind of people who carried them.

Knew that it had to be a personal favorite.

And—

Her eyes caught something else.

A blade.

Sleek. Simple.

But the inscription down the handle—

She recognized it.

An old military unit. Pre-collapse.

A unit that had been classified before she was even born.

Her fingers hovered.

Then—

"You thinking about stealing one?"

Leah jerked her hand back.

She turned—

Ross leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her.

She smirked. "If I wanted one, you wouldn't stop me."

Ross's brow lifted slightly. "I wouldn't have to."

Leah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "He really needs this many guns?"

Ross glanced at the wall, unbothered.

"Do you really need ten pairs of boots?"

Leah grinned. "That's different."

Ross didn't blink. "How?"

Leah shrugged. "Mine are for fashion. His are for murder."

Ross let out a slow breath. "You think those are separate things for him?"

Before Leah could answer, Ross's comm buzzed.

He checked the screen, then glanced at her.

"Doctor's done."

Leah's stomach turned.

Not with fear.

With frustration.

She knew she wasn't exactly in top shape.

But she didn't need a lecture about it.

She exhaled. "Fine. Let's hear it."

The medical bay was quiet.

Too quiet.

Dr. Caine stood waiting, hands folded behind his back, expression unreadable.

He wasted no time.

"The bond nearly destroyed your system."

Leah stilled.

Ross's expression didn't change.

But she knew he was paying attention now.

Dr. Caine's voice was clinical, precise.

"Your stabilizing levels are nearly depleted. The bonding process drained them. That's… not normal."

Leah's jaw tightened. "Define 'not normal.'"

Dr. Caine's brow lifted slightly.

"Most bonds don't do this. They adjust. They stabilize. Yours didn't."

His eyes flicked to her, sharp.

"It rebuilt. But it cost you."

Leah crossed her arms, masking the flicker of unease.

"So? It's fixed now."

Dr. Caine's gaze narrowed.

"Temporarily."

A beat.

"You need supplies. A lot of them. Vitamin regulators, protein stabilizers, at least a month of controlled rest. If you don't—"

He didn't finish.

He didn't have to.

Ross's voice was calm, but Leah caught the slight shift in tone.

"She won't make it to Mars in one piece."

Leah exhaled sharply.

She could already see where this was going.

Voss was going to hear about it.

She was going to get grounded like a damn child.

And worst of all—

She couldn't fight the facts.

Her body wasn't ready for this.

Not yet.

Dr. Caine pulled up a data sheet, scrolling through the results.

"The bond is holding, but if you don't reinforce it, the system strain will keep wearing you down."

Leah muttered under her breath. "Fantastic."

Dr. Caine's eyes snapped to Ross.

"You'll make sure she follows this, yes?"

Ross didn't even look at Leah.

"Of course."

Leah groaned.

"Oh, for—seriously?"

Ross's expression was neutral.

"I babysit billionaires for a living. You think I can't babysit you?"

Leah pointed at him. "I will make your life hell."

Ross, flatly: "I assumed as much."

Dr. Caine sighed, tapping the report closed. "Get the supplies. And for god's sake, sleep."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Fine."

She turned to Ross, grumbling.

"Let's go count crates before someone orders me to take a nap."

Ross motioned toward the door.