Page 63 of Run Wild Omega

Maggie checks the monitor. “Pressure’s at thirty-four. Holding steady. It hasn’t climbed in the last twenty minutes.”

That stops everyone.

“Holding steady?” Dr. Evans steps forward, checking the readings himself. “You’re sure?”

“Thirty-four point two. Thirty-four point one. It’s plateaued.”

He studies the trend line on the screen, his brow furrowed. Then, slowly, something shifts in his expression. Not quite relief, but the first hint of it.

“The diuretics may be kicking in,” he says. “The fluid is starting to shift. If this holds—and if the next reading drops even slightly—we may be out of the danger zone.”

“May be?” Margaret asks, her voice trembling.

“If the pressure drops below thirty and stays there, the tissue is getting adequate blood flow. The fasciotomy becomes unnecessary.”

I look at the monitor. Thirty-four point one. The number glows green on the screen, steady and unmoving.

Come on, Tess. Come on.

Fifteen minutes pass. The reading holds at thirty-four.

Another fifteen. Thirty-three point eight.

It’s dropping. Slowly, incrementally, but dropping.

Maggie adjusts the cold therapy pack around Tess’s leg, repositioning it for maximum effect. Dr. Evans reviews the lab results from the latest blood draw—hemoglobin climbing, clotting factors normalizing.

By the time the two-hour mark arrives, the compartment pressure reads thirty-one point four.

“Not out of the woods yet,” Dr. Evans says carefully. “But the trend is encouraging. I want to see it below thirty and holding for at least an hour before I’m comfortable.”

“It’s going to get there,” Dylan says. It’s not a question. It’s a statement of absolute conviction.

Dr. Evans looks at him, then at the three of us standing around this bed like sentinels, like we’ve been planted here since the beginning of time.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “I suppose it is.”

He leaves to check on other patients. Maggie stays, her eyes never straying far from the monitor.

Margaret pulls a chair up next to mine. She doesn’t speak. She just sits, her shoulder pressing against mine, and watches her daughter breathe.

Henry stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, in the same spot Miles occupied earlier. Miles has shifted to the corner, giving the family space but refusing to leave the room entirely. Dylan hasn’t moved from Tess’s other side.

My phone buzzes. I glance down.

Daniel: I saw the news. I’m calling in favors. We’re going to handle this.

Below his message, another from an unknown number.

Captain Callahan, this is Sandra Voss with Channel 9 News. We’d like to get a statement from the rescue team regarding the avalanche incident. Our viewers have a lot of questions about⁠—

I block the number without finishing the message.

More notifications pile up. I silence the phone and slide it into my pocket.

The monitor beeps.

Thirty-one point two.