"Is it true?" Her arms crossed over her chest like a barrier. "Did you go to the Orc settlement?"
I met her gaze steadily. "Yes."
"And you treated one of them?"
"The child who was here. His wound had become infected. I—"
"I don't care about his wound." Each word dropped like a stone. "You are employed by Franklin Memorial, Dr. Bennett. Your license, your malpractice insurance, your authority to practice medicine—all of it exists under this institution's umbrella. You don't get to go off on unauthorized house calls to treat Orcs and expose this hospital to liability."
"I went on my own time. A child was dying—"
"A child that wasn't your patient. Wasn't anyone's patient. Do you have any concept of the position you've put us in?" She leaned forward, tendons standing out in her neck like cables. "What if something had gone wrong? What if you'd been hurt? What if that creature had died and they'd blamed you?"
"Thatcreatureis a six-year-old boy named Ardin," I said, heat rising in my chest. "And he's alive because I went."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point, Nadine?"
She held my gaze, and something flickered in her eyes—not quite anger, not quite fear. Something colder. Something that looked like revulsion. I gave consideration to telling her I'd kissed Ruka just to see if her head would actually explode.
"The point, Dr. Bennett, is that you don't seem to understand where the lines are. This community has certain... expectations. Standards. We coexist with the Orcs because the government gave us no choice, but that doesn't mean we erase the boundaries between us and them."
"Boundaries," I repeated, the word tasting bitter. "You mean like the Hippocratic Oath? First, do no harm? Or does that only apply to certain species?"
Her jaw could have cracked walnuts. "Don't be glib. You know exactly what I mean."
"I really don't," I challenged.
She exhaled through her nose like a bull preparing to charge. "Then let me be crystal clear. You're fired, Dr. Bennett. Effective immediately."
The words hung in the air between us, sharp and final. I waited for the devastation to hit, for my knees to buckle, for panic to claw its way up my throat. Instead, what bloomed in my chest was something unexpected—relief. Pure, weightless relief,like someone had just cut the strings holding me to a puppet master I'd never wanted.
Maybe it was because being fired meant no breach-of-contract penalties, no financial shackles keeping me chained to this place. But even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew that wasn't it. The relief came from somewhere deeper, somewhere I'd been too afraid to look until this very moment.
"If you want to treat animals," Nadine continued, each word dripping with venom, "perhaps you should have become a veterinarian."
I studied her—this woman made of sharp edges and colder convictions, who'd probably forgotten what it felt like to care about anything beyond her precious protocols. A laugh bubbled up in my throat, inappropriate and liberating.
"You know what, Nadine? You're absolutely right." I turned toward the door, my steps lighter than they'd been in months. "I should have."
"Security will escort you—"
"I know the way."
The break room greeted me with its familiar fluorescent hum, empty except for the ghosts of a thousand coffee breaks and whispered complaints. My locker waited at the far end—number seventeen, its combination lock worn smooth by my fingers over countless shifts.
The lock clicked open. Inside, the sparse collection of my professional life stared back at me. Wrinkled spare scrubs, my stethoscope with its slightly frayed tubing, a bottle of ibuprofen that had seen better days, a fossilized granola bar I'd optimistically stashed during a particularly brutal shift. Not much to show for years of my life.
I was cramming the scrubs into my bag when the door exploded inward.
"Jordan!"
Tammy stood framed in the doorway, her face flushed crimson, her chest heaving like she'd sprinted from the other side of the hospital.
"Tell me it's not true," she demanded, closing the distance between us in three furious strides. "Tell me Nadine didn't actually fire you."
"News travels at the speed of gossip." I reached for my stethoscope, its familiar weight suddenly precious.