Inside, the hospital feels different. More security personnel in the hallways. Checkpoints at key access points. Everyone's on alert.
Preston intercepts us near the surgical wing.
"Gwen. Glad I caught you." He falls into step beside us. "Administration asked me to make sure all key personnel were briefed on the new security protocols."
"Captain Caine already filled me in. Commander Garrison fled, Briggs is still at large."
"Then you know we're treating this as an active threat." He glances at Thatcher trailing a few feet behind us. "Your protective detail continuing?"
"Until the situation's resolved."
"Good." His expression softens slightly. "You're one of our best surgeons, Gwen. We can't afford to lose you. Be careful out there."
"I will. Thanks, Preston."
He nods and heads toward the administrative wing while we continue to the nurses' station.
Beth catches my eye between patients and jerks her head toward the supply closet. I glance at Thatcher, who's positioned near the nurses' station. He nods once, understanding, but follows us at a discreet distance. Beth pulls me into the closet and he takes position outside the door where he can monitor the hallway.
"Details. Now," Beth says, keeping her voice low.
"I'm working."
"You're blushing every time you look at him. What happened?"
"We woke up together. Things are... progressing."
Her eyes go wide. "Progressing how?"
"Use your imagination."
"Oh my god." She grabs my arm. "You look happy. Like actually happy, not just 'got through another shift' happy."
"I am happy."
"Good. You deserve this." She glances toward the door where Thatcher's shadow is visible through the small window. "He looks at you like you're the only person in the room, by the way."
"He's doing threat assessment."
"He's doing both. I know the difference." She squeezes my hand. "Be careful though. With Garrison out there."
"I will."
We step out and Thatcher immediately scans me, checking I'm fine before we continue down the hallway.
After finishing rounds, I find Thatcher positioned in the hallway near the physician lounge. The way he stands, blocking the corridor, scanning everyone who passes, sets my teeth on edge.
"We need to talk," I say, pulling him into an empty exam room.
He follows, eyebrows raised. "About what?"
"About you treating me like I'm made of glass." I cross my arms. "You've been hovering all day. Watching everyone like they're a threat."
"Everyone is a potential threat until we catch Garrison and Briggs."
"I get that. But you can't shadow me this close indefinitely. I have a job to do."
"And I have a job to do. Keeping you safe."
