I looked out at the water one more time. The ducks had gone, retreated to wherever ducks went when evening fell. The bench was cold beneath me. The trees rustled overhead, whispering secrets I couldn't understand.
I stood.
I didn't have answers. I didn't know what came next. But I couldn't keep sitting on this bench, frozen between what I wanted and what I could have.
I had to make a choice. And whatever I chose, I had to find a way to live with it.
Even if it shattered me.
I walked home through the fading light, my father's words echoing in my head. Sometimes love isn't enough to overcome circumstance.
Maybe that was true.
But God, I wished it wasn't.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CASSIAN
PRESENT DAY
I wasin my office reviewing charts, trying to focus on discharge summaries instead of the text conversation with Calla that had kept me up half the night. I don't know. But I do. Four words I'd sent without thinking, four words that had been rattling around my head ever since.
Then my pager went off, followed immediately by my phone, and the text conversation became the least of my concerns.
Multi-vehicle collision in the neighboring district. A semi-truck had jackknifed on the interstate during rush hour, triggering a chain reaction involving at least fifteen vehicles. Twenty-three casualties confirmed, several critical. Riverside General was overwhelmed. They were requesting assistance from every nearby facility, including private hospitals that normally stayed insulated from public emergencies.
Dr. Patel appeared in my doorway before I'd finished reading the alert.
"We're sending a team," she said. "I need you to lead it."
"Obsidian's a private hospital. We don't usually respond to district emergencies."
"I know. But Riverside is drowning, and we have resources they need. Riven already approved it." She handed me a tabletwith the team roster. "Pack a trauma bag. You're taking Karras, two residents, and Mireya from surgical services."
My stomach dropped. "Calla?"
"She's our best trauma surgeon aside from you. This isn't a request, Reed. It's an order."
Twenty minutes later, I found myself in an Obsidian transport van, trauma bags stacked in the back, heading toward a disaster I could only imagine.
Calla sat across from me. She'd pulled her deep red hair back into a tight bun, her face scrubbed clean of any expression I could read. Professional. Prepared. The mask she wore when the work demanded everything she had to give.
Mireya sat beside her, organizing supplies with the calm efficiency that made her invaluable in any crisis. She'd already catalogued our equipment twice, her hands moving automatically while her eyes stayed focused on the road ahead.
The two residents we'd brought looked terrified. Dr. Sheldon, third-year, kept bouncing his leg until Mireya put a hand on his knee to still it. Dr. Patterson, second-year, had gone pale the moment Patel announced the assignment and hadn't regained color since.
"Anyone been to a mass casualty event before?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light. Reassuring.
Both residents shook their heads.
Calla and Mireya both nodded.
"It's chaos," Calla said. Her voice was steady, clinical, stripped of anything personal. "Your job is to triage fast, stabilize faster, and don't get attached. We can't save everyone. Focus on who has the best chance of surviving and move on."
"Listen to Dr. Karras," I added. "She's seen worse than this. Follow her lead and you'll be fine."
Our eyes met across the van. Something flickered between us, there and gone before I could name it. Then Calla turnedaway, directing her attention back to the residents, walking them through protocols they'd studied but never practiced.
