Then slam my fist into the wall hard enough pain shoots up my arm.
“Damn it!”
I should be doing something.
Should be fixing this.
Instead I’m trapped outside while strangers fight to keep her alive.
Miles steps closer carefully. “Russ.”
“Don’t.”
“Listen to me—”
“I said don’t.”
The words come out raw enough they barely sound human.
Because if she dies—
No.
I crush the thought instantly before it can fully form.
Not happening.
She survived captivity.
Gunshots.
Blood loss.
Hell itself.
She is not dying on some operating table after all that.
Not Olivia.
Not her.
I brace both hands against the wall and lower my head for one second.
Just one.
Then I straighten again.
Because falling apart won’t help her.
Nothing helps her except staying right here.
Waiting.
The light flickers between yellow and red above the doors.
Every second stretches thinner.
Every breath feels like a countdown.
