The hospital was bright and sterile, the kind of place that smelled like disinfectant and anxiety.
I hated it.
Zu Zhenlan didn't let go of me as we walked through the automatic doors, his hand still on my back, guiding me toward the reception desk as he hunched his body like he was protecting me from danger.
The nurse looked up, her expression professionally neutral. "How can I help you?"
"She cut her hand," Zhenlan replied in a low growl. "Badly. She needs stitches."
The nurse glanced at my hand, still wrapped in the blood-soaked towel. "How long ago did this happen?"
"Twenty minutes," Zhenlan answered before I could.
"Has the bleeding slowed at all?"
"No."
The nurse nodded and handed him a clipboard. "Fill this out. We'll get her back as soon as possible."
"As soon as possible?" Zhenlan's voice sharpened. "She's bleeding through a towel. She needs to be seen now."
"Sir, I understand, but—"
