Lennox's POV
The door clicked shut, and with it, my strength evaporated. My legs turned to water, the cane slipping from my numb fingers as I collapsed. I didn't hit the floor; Elena caught me, her small but strong frame bracing mine as she guided me back onto the pillows.
"Easy, Alpha," she whispered, her voice no longer high-pitched and dramatic, but steady and professional.
She immediately reached for the pulse oximeter on the nightstand, sliding it onto my finger while she checked the flow of the IV. Elena was a palliative care nurse I'd hired through a shell company—someone with no ties to the pack who could play a role and keep a medical secret.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her eyes scanning the monitor. "Your heart rate is dangerously high. That outburst cost you too much."
"I'm... fine," I managed to rasp, the word catching on the fluid in my lungs. "Just give me a minute."
"You need the oxygen," she insisted, reaching for the mask.
