Amara spent most of the morning trying to distract herself.
It didn't work.
Every little sound made her glance over her shoulder. Every passing car outside the estate gates made her uneasy.
The memory of the gunshots still echoed in her head.
She sat at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee she had barely touched.
Across the room, Ethan was on the phone.
His voice was low and controlled as always, but she could hear the tension underneath.
"Yes," he said.
A pause.
Then he stood straighter.
"When did he wake up?"
Amara immediately looked at him.
Ethan's expression sharpened.
"What did he say?"
Another pause.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"I'm coming to the hospital tonight," he said firmly. "Make sure the police are there."
He ended the call.
Amara stood up immediately.
"The driver?" She asked.
Ethan nodded.
"He woke up about thirty minutes ago."
Relief flooded through her.
"That's good."
"He remembered something."
Her heart began to race.
"What did he remember?"
Ethan walked toward her.
"He told the nurse he recognized the man in the SUV."
Amara felt her pulse quicken.
"Recognized him?"
"Yes."
"Did he say who it was?"
Ethan shook his head slightly.
"Not yet."
Her stomach tightened.
"What do you mean not yet?"
"He asked that I come first."
Amara exhaled slowly.
That meant the driver knew something important.
Something big enough that he didn't want to say it casually.
"When are we going?" She asked.
Ethan glanced at the clock.
"This evening."
"Why not now?"
"The doctors said he's still weak. They're stabilizing him first."
Amara nodded slowly.
But something about the situation made her uneasy.
"If he recognized the man…"
Ethan finished the sentence quietly.
"Then someone else might know he recognized him."
A cold feeling crept into Amara's chest.
Evening came slowly.
Too slowly.
By the time Ethan's car finally pulled into the hospital car parking lot, the sky had turned dark.
The building lights glowed against the night.
Amara felt a strange knot in her stomach as they stepped inside.
Hospitals always felt heavy.
Too quiet.
Too tense.
They approached the front desk.
"I'm here to see Thomas Hale," Ethan said.
The nurse checked the computer.
Her expression changed slightly.
"Room 407."
Ethan nodded.
They walked down the hallway together.
Mara could hear the faint beeping of the medical monitors from different rooms.
Her nerves tightened with every step.
Finally they reached the door.
Room 407.
Ethan knocked once before pushing the door open.
Amara stepped inside behind him.
Then she froze.
Two nurses were standing beside the bed.
A doctor stood near the heart monitor.
And the sound filling the room was something Amara immediately recognized.
A long, steady tone.
Flat.
Her stomach dropped.
"No…" she whispered.
The doctor looked up.
"I'm sorry."
Ethan's expression hardened instantly.
"What happened?"
The doctor sighed.
"He went into cardiac arrest ten minutes ago."
Amara stared at the still figure on the bed.
The driver.
The man who had saved them.
His face was pale.
His eyes closed.
The machines around him had already been turned off.
"He was stable earlier," Ethan said sharply.
"He was," the doctor replied.
"Then why is he dead?"
The doctor hesitated.
"One of the nurses noticed his heart rate suddenly dropped."
"Just like that?"
"Yes."
Amara felt a chill run down her spine.
"That doesn't make sense, she said quietly.
The doctor frowned.
"We're running tests to determine what happened."
Ethan's expression darkened.
Amara stared at the hospital bed.
Just hours ago, that man had been alive.
Fighting.
Trying to survive a bullet that wasn't meant for him.
Now the room felt strangely quiet.
Too quiet.
The doctor gently removed the stethoscope from around his neck.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
Amara felt a heaviness settle in her chest.
"Was it because of the gunshot?" She asked quietly.
"It's possible," the doctor replied. "The trauma, blood loss, the stress on his body…sometimes the heart simply can't handle it."
Amara suddenly realized she was gripping the edge of the bed rail.
She slowly let go.
"That man saved us, she said softly.
Ethan didn't respond.
But she saw the tension in his shoulders.
The police officer who had arrived earlier stepped closer.
"We'll still need to file a report," he said.
Ethan nodded.
"Of course."
The officer wrote a few notes.
"Do you know if he had anything after waking up earlier today?" Ethan asked.
The doctor shook his head.
"Not much."
"He was conscious briefly, but the nurses said he seemed weak and disoriented."
"So he didn't say anything important?" Amara asked.
The doctor frowned slightly as he tried to remember.
"One nurse mentioned he was trying to say something."
"What?" Ethan asked immediately.
"I'm not sure. She said it sounded like he was trying to describe the people in the vehicle."
Amara felt her heart skip.
"But he couldn't finish?"
"No," the doctor said.
"He lost consciousness again shortly after."
Amara exhaled slowly.
So whatever the driver had seen…
Whatever he had tried to say…
It died with him.
The police officer closed his notebook.
"We'll continue investigating the shooting," he said.
Ethan nodded.
"Please keep me informed."
"Of course."
Amara glanced once more at the man on the hospital bed.
His face looked strangely peaceful now.
But the thought that kept repeating in her mind was impossible to ignore.
He had taken a bullet meant for them.
And now he was dead.
As they turned to leave the room, Amara couldn't shake the strange, uncomfortable feeling in her chest.
Something about the situation didn't sit right.
But she couldn't explain why.
Behind them, the hospital machines were being quietly turned off one by one.
And neither of them noticed the small hospital staff member standing briefly at the end of the hallway…
Watching them walk away.