My heart stutters.
Because I know that team is Russ’s team. The ones who came here to rescue us, three doctors stranded in Iran during a war.
“Is he—”
“I don’t know yet,” she says gently.
And then she’s gone again.
Leaving me alone with the silence.
And the fear.
51
Russ
The trauma bay is chaos when I hit it.
Voices.
Movement.
Blood.
“Clear the space!” someone shouts.
“Out of my way.”
The voice cuts through everything.
Sharp. Commanding.
Familiar.
Dr. Hannah Bowers.
She pushes straight through the medics—doesn’t slow, doesn’t hesitate.
Doesn’t look like she should even be standing.
Bruises darken one side of her face. Her lip is split. One arm is wrapped tight in a bloodstained bandage.
Doesn’t matter.
Not to her.
Her eyes lock on the table—
On Clay.
And something in her expression shifts.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Something harder.
