The hospital doors burst open as Sebastian was rushed in, his body barely holding on as blood soaked through the cloth pressed tightly against his side. The medical team moved with urgency, their voices sharp, controlled, and fast.
"Clear the way!"
"BP dropping!"
"Pulse is weak—move!"
The stretcher rolled hard across the floor and straight into the operating room. The doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off everything.
The red light above flicked on.
Surgery in progress.
Outside, the hallway fell into a heavy silence.
Vivian stood still, her hands stained with Sebastian's blood. It had started to dry, but she could still feel it—warm, real, terrifying. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she stared at the closed doors.
Alaric stood beside her, quiet, tense.
Inside the operating room, the pressure was immediate.
"Scalpel."
"Clamp."
"More suction."
Blood continued to flow, stubborn and dangerous.
"Pressure isn't holding."
"Locate the source—now!"
