Her lungs collapsed inside his chest a second time, and Dexmon stopped mid-step, but forced himself to keep moving.
Alaric and Hyran were in the halls in a flash, Dexmon right behind them, boots pounding stone as panic fractured the air.
Hyran did not slow. He opened a portal on the run, the edges snapping gold, straight into the infirmary, level one. Emergency ward.
Gavriel carried Serena into a private room, and laid her on the bed.
She coughed, blood spilling from her mouth in a horrifying amount, splattering on the white sheets. She gasped, sharp and panicked, chest hitching as if her lungs refused to work.
"No," Dexmon breathed.
He was at her side instantly, hauling her upright and pulling her back hard against his chest. His arms locked around her like iron.
"She can't breathe when she's flat," he gritted out, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. He knew it with bone-deep certainty because her pain was his pain. Her panic clawed through him, raw and suffocating.
