I close my eyes briefly.
Because I already know.
I’ve seen injuries like that before.
Blunt force trauma.
Internal bleeding.
The kind that doesn’t always show itself until it’s almost too late.
The kind that—
No.
I cut the thought off hard.
Because I’m not doing that.
Not right now.
Not when—
The door opens.
I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until—
Russ steps back in.
And everything in me—
Stills.
He looks the same.
Same posture.
Same controlled movement.
Same steady presence.
But I see it now.
What’s underneath.
The tension in his shoulders.
The tightness in his jaw.
The way his eyes scan the room like he’s still in the middle of a fight.
Not relaxed.
Not even close.
“How is he?” I ask immediately.
No hesitation.
