“Yeah.” He nods, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “You get the same feeling about the husband?”
“Absolutely.”
“And?”
I glance at the hospital. “I want to keep eyes on her.”
Damon shoots me a look and sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Are you serious?” he scoffs. “I saw the way you looked at her.”
Shit… Was I that obvious?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feign ignorance. Silence stretches between us for a moment as the Jeep rattles along the narrow street.
Damon finally breaks the silence. “Loop Hawk in when we get back. And Jagg, do us all a favor and keep your distance.”
I don’t answer, because I already know I can’t.
The two Americans walk toward the exit, and I pretend to be more interested in my charts than them. The sharp woodsy scent of their colognes still clings to the air, cutting through the ever-present antiseptic. While the sweet aroma flooding my nostrils should be pleasant, it is suffocating.
Two visits in one day…
Struggling to draw a solid breath, I rush down the hallway and into an empty exam room. The moment the door shuts behind me, I fold against it. My pulse hammers so hard, it drowns out the distant beeping of monitors and muffled voices as it whooshes through my ears. While staring at the cracked tile between my feet, I try to level out my breathing as the walls start creeping in on me. I count my breaths.
In through my nose.Inhale, 1, 2, 3…
Out through my mouth.Exhale, 3, 2, 1…
Again.
Inhale, 1, 2, 3…
Slower this time.
Exhale 3, 2, 1…
“You’re fine,” I whisper to myself. “You’re still standing. You’re not bleeding.” That last one shouldn’t be a benchmark, but here we are. That fact I find it comforting says far more about my mental health than I care to think about right now.
I peel myself away from the door and clench my hands into fists, a futile effort to steady the tremble in them before stepping into the hallway. The hospital swallows me immediately, noise and commotion surrounding me before I close the exam room door, the chaos carrying on with brutal indifference. No one pauses. No one notices that my entire nervous system is still screaming. Except Zahra.
She appears at my side as though summoned by my panic. Without a word, she walks with me. Her arm brushes against mine, her stride matching mine without effort. The contact is grounding in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
Zahra and I clicked from the moment I arrived. As a seasoned nurse, she understands how to read people, how to know when something is wrong without being told. “You okay?” she asks quietly, once we’re far enough down the hall that no one can easily overhear.
I force a smile that fools no one who actually knows me, especially Zahra. “Yeah. Just more men looking for Maryam.” I take two more steps before realizing that Zahra is no longer beside me. When I glance over my shoulder, herface has gone pale, and her eyes are wide and bright with the fear she’s trying—and failing—to hide.
“Blake,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Who?”
“Different ones,” I answer. “At least, I think they were.”
My disclosure doesn’t grant her any relief. Her hands curl into fists at her sides, all her knuckles blanching from the tight ball she has curled them into. I see the memory flicker across her face like lightning—the blood pooling faster than we could suction it away, the alarms, how we moved in perfect, wordless synchronization because there was no room for hesitation—followed immediately by regret.
Zahra helped me save Maryam, and now we’re in the same unsettling boat. That choice we made might cost us both everything. Her lips part slightly, and her breath shudders between them. “They asked about the surgery?”
I step closer and lower my voice so that no one else can hear. “Hey. Look at me.” She does, and I’m met with her watery dark brown eyes. “No one knows you were involved,” I share firmly. “I didn’t put anyone on her chart but me. Your name isn’t listed once. I didn’t mention you to anyone. And I promise, I will tell no one. No matter what.”
