More red followed.
The medic’s expression changed.
“Postpartum hemorrhage. Mary, bring the emergency case. We need blood now.”
Mary ran.
Rhen remained at Leena’s side.
The medic pressed folded linen firmly against the source of the bleeding. Rhen covered her hands with his own, controlling his strength with such precision that every muscle in his arms shook.
“Here,” the medic ordered. “Maintain pressure. Do not press harder than this.”
Rhen fixed the amount of force into memory.
He did not move.
Leena’s fingers closed weakly around his sleeve.
Her skin was colder than it had been minutes ago.
Too cold.
Her heartbeat raced beneath the silence of the room, frantic and uneven.
Rhen heard every failing beat.
“Stay with me,” he ordered.
Her gaze moved toward him, unfocused.
The baby began to cry from the cradle.
A thin, uncertain sound.
Leena’s eyes shifted toward it.
“My baby…”
“He’s safe.”
Rhen leaned closer, keeping one blood-slicked hand over the linen while the other caught hers.
“He is safe. You stay where you are.”
Mary returned carrying the emergency case and two bags of human donor blood. She set them beside the medic with trembling hands.
The medic worked quickly, opening supplies, fitting a line into Leena’s arm, and issuing clipped instructions that barely penetrated the roar building inside Rhen’s skull.
The blood beneath his hand continued to spread.
It ran between his fingers.
Over his wrists.
Into the dark fabric covering his knees.
Nothing stopped it.
