The pheromones from all five compatible alphas were injected into Emily in precise stages—rich cocktail blended from their scents, flooding her glands slow and deep via targeted syringes at neck, wrists, and inner thighs—while nurses pumped sufficient blood transfusions to sustain the radical shift, her flushed body stabilizing under the sterile hum of monitors.
So, yes... the therapy was a complete success.
They wheeled her gentle into the sealed dominant omega suite after—a reinforced, soundproof vault deep in the hospital wing, walls laced with industrial scrubbers to trap her heat scent airtight, preventing it from leaking to trigger chaos beyond.
Ana turned to the three alphas clustered tense outside the reinforced glass viewport, her cyan hair limp from hours under the cap, scrubs speckled sweat. "This is a long haul—expect at least one full week locked down before she's stable enough to release."
