Chapter 4
A Doctor's Deception
Dr. Finch, the man who declared Clara dead, reappears. His reassurances feel hollow. Peter senses a hidden agenda, a carefully constructed lie behind the doctor's professional facade. And As should've because Doctor was planning a war with a army of werewolf soldiers that he created with a vile of Clara blood
The sterile scent of antiseptic always clung to Dr. Finch’s office, a smell I’d once associated with healing, with Clara’s brief, terrifying hospital stay. Now, it was just another layer of the charade, a cloying perfume masking the rot beneath. He sat behind his mahogany desk, a picture of professional calm, his silver hair impeccably combed, his eyes, behind thick-rimmed glasses, holding a practiced sympathy. It was a sympathy I no longer trusted.
“Peter,” he began, his voice a low, soothing balm, “I’m so very sorry for your continued… distress. I understand this must be incredibly difficult.”
Difficult? The word felt like a pebble tossed into an ocean of grief and terror. Clara was gone. Or so I’d been told. But the whispers in the void, the phantom touch on my skin, the chilling certainty that something was terribly wrong, gnawed at me. And now, here was the man who had signed her death certificate, offering platitudes.
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