Not until—
Clay’s breathing shifts.
Subtle.
But different.
I freeze for half a second.
Then lean in closer.
“Clay?”
No response.
But his chest rises again.
Stronger this time.
My pulse kicks up.
“Stay with me,” I say, quieter now. Focused.
“Vitals are improving,” someone says behind me.
I don’t answer.
I don’t trust it yet.
I’ve seen too many people turn around—
And then crash again.
Not him.
Not this time.
Not after—
My hand presses lightly against his side, adjusting pressure.
Careful.
Controlled.
Even though everything in me is anything but.
“Why are you still standing?” a voice mutters behind me.
I don’t turn.
“Because he is.”
Silence.
No one argues after that.
Good.
