Broken furniture lay scattered across the floor. Blood streaked the white tiles beneath the harsh hospital lighting while the sharp scent of antiseptic mixed unpleasantly with sweat, vomit, and adrenaline.
Marcus lay restrained against the hospital bed unconscious, his chest rising unevenly beneath the leather straps binding him tightly in place.
Sedatives had finally forced his body into stillness, but even now faint tremors still moved through his fingers and jaw occasionally from withdrawal.
The doctor checked his pulse calmly despite the destruction surrounding them. "Increase observation tonight," he instructed one of the nurses quietly. "No sharp objects. No unsupervised movement when he wakes."
The nurse nodded immediately, still visibly shaken from the attack.
Gabriel remained standing several feet away, breathing unevenly while staring at his son strapped down like a violent psychiatric patient instead of the boy he had once carried on his shoulders years ago.
