"Ruby… no. No, you don't look well. We're going to the hospital. Now."
Max didn't wait for an answer.
He was already moving.
One arm slid behind her back, the other beneath her knees, lifting her like she weighed nothing, but his grip was tight, almost desperate, like he was afraid she might slip away if he loosened it even a little.
"Max… I'm fine," she tried, her voice weak, breath uneven.
"No, you're not."
His reply came sharply. Immediate.
He didn't slow down.
The night air hit them as he pushed through the doors, his steps quick, urgent, too urgent. The world around them blurred, but Max felt everything too clearly: the way her body leaned into him, the faint tremble in her fingers, the heat of her skin against his chest.
It scared him.
More than he would ever admit.
He reached the car, pulling the door open in one swift motion and carefully lowering her into the seat like she was something fragile… something that could break.
