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“Understood,” the paramedic said, pleasant but unbudgeable. “We still want you looked at. Standard, with a possible exposure. All right?”

“All right,” I said, because it was standard, and because I was too tired to argue with a protocol I would have insisted on myself if it had been someone else sitting where I sat.

Alexander was speaking to one of them. I heard fragments.

Whatever she needs.

The best available.

I’ll authorize anything.

His old reflex. Solve the problem. Remove every obstacle.

They walked me to the elevator that had brought me here. Victoria went ahead of us on the stretcher, the oxygen mask fogging with each breath. She was still breathing. For the moment, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Alexander

There are some problems architecture can’t solve.

I understood that, intellectually. Buildings age. Stone cracks. Steel fatigues. Every structure eventually yields to time. But those were failures measured over decades, predictable enough that they could be anticipated, reinforced, restored.

This was different.

Emilia was behind a door I could not open, being examined by people I could neither question nor hurry. Somewhere farther down the hall, Victoria was alive.

For the first time in my adult life, there was nothing left to build.

The corridor was quiet except for the rhythm of monitors beyond the walls and the occasional squeak of shoes against polished floors. Nurses passed, going where they were needed. And they were needed everywhere. I wanted them with Emilia.

I had spent years believing that protection could be built. Security. Distance. Preparation. If danger could be anticipated, it could be prevented. If it could not be prevented, it could be contained.

It had seemed like a reasonable philosophy. Standing here, it no longer did.

Marcus found me some time later. He had already spoken with the police. There would be reports, statements, recordings to review. That work would continue for weeks. He stopped beside me without speaking. He understood, as he always did, that silence is sometimes the biggest kindness.

“Any change?” he asked quietly.

“They’re keeping her for observation.” My eyes remained on the closed door. “The physician doesn’t believe she was exposed, but they won’t discharge her until they’re certain.”

Marcus nodded once. “Victoria’s alive. Critical but stable.”

Neither of us spoke for a while.

“The police will want another statement tomorrow. I’ve given them the manual-override logs, including the alert that sent us there. I’ll handle everything I can tonight. She’ll remain under police guard.”

“Thank you.”

“Try to get some rest.”

My head dropped. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

When Marcus left, the corridor became quiet again. I remained where I was, watching people move past. Everyone had somewhere to be. Everyone knew what came next.

I did not.

Her voice returned to me with painful clarity.