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The doctor shook her head. “I’m not promising anything. She’s sustained horrific injuries. To be blunt, if she makes it, it will be a miracle.”
Please. I need a miracle.
My relief was short-lived. But Penelope was breathing. If she was breathing, there was hope.
“When can we see her again?” I croaked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did she know we were there?” I asked, praying that she had. That she knew how much we loved her.
“I can’t say for sure, but she’s a fighter.”
Of course my daughter was. She was a Zegas.
“We’re not leaving until she’s recovered.”
A flash of sympathy crossed her face. I wasn’t sure if it was because she understood our pain or thought we were fools to believe Penelope would make it out of this alive.
“Feel free to use this room as long as you like. When I have an update, I’ll let you know.”
I dropped my cheek to the top of JoJo’s head.
The door clicked closed softly.
Had JoJo heard the doctor?
“She’s breathing, Barn.”
The only answer was ugly sniffles.
I hooked her chin and forced her to look at me. Those green-gold eyes were watery and red-rimmed. She looked miserable. Like she’d walked through the fires of hell.
“She is going to make it.”
It was a promise I couldn’t keep, but as long as I had breath, I’d do whatever it took. Penelope was fighting to get back to us.
I had to fight for her.
“Do you know any doctors? The best?” I asked.
JoJo helped people all over the world. Maybe she’d encountered physicians who specialized in miracles.
She straightened. “Call Neil.”
Neil? Anybody but that bastard—no. But for Penelope, I’d do anything.
“Get Dr. Anderson’s number from him.”
“Who is Dr. Anderson? Why would I call him?”
“He’s performed procedures on high trauma patients with Earth Warriors all over the world as a volunteer. He’s an excellent doctor. If he can’t help Penelope, he might know someone who can.”
She recited Neil’s number, and I dialed.
“I need the phone number for a Dr. Anderson,” I barked when he answered.
“Excuse me?”
