Mike nodded, that knot in his throat burning again. He looked through the glass at his daughter, her eyes tracking between the gurney with Dante and the bank of monitors.
There was a lot to say. But not yet.
OR
Inside the operating room, Roe’s voice remained steady even though his face had paled. “Keep the norepinephrine running. Increase fluids. Do not disconnect the ventilator until I say.”
The younger surgeon worked at double speed as Roe leaned over Dante. “He’s losing pressure from the internal bleed. Roe, move left. I have exposure.” He exhaled loudly.
Roe gritted through the pain in his shoulder and adjusted his position. A nurse helped him change out of his gown, and, despite the injury, his hands remained steady as stone.
“Clamp now,” he said.
The clamp snapped shut. Dante’s blood pressure climbed a fraction.
“Good. Let’s close his chest and irrigate his entire abdominal cavity after we liberate him from the remnants of this abscess and its siblings,” Roe said. “I want them cultured.” He dropped a white blob into a basin.
The team worked together in a synchronized rhythm, wounded surgeon and others, none willing to step away until the bleeding stopped from a small ruptured vein in Dante’s liver.
Roe managed to stay on his feet as two medical center surgeons irrigated the abdomen and double-checked the chest.
“Close now,” Roe ordered then finally leaned back, sweat on his brow. “Prepare him for post-operative ICU stabilization. Move with care. He can’t tolerate another shock.”
Even on the verge of collapse, he stayed until Dante was safely placed on the rolling ICU bed.
As the teammaneuvered Dante out of the OR, Shannon stepped aside, but the moment he passed her, her legs betrayed her. She pressed her hand against the wall to steady herself. Her breathing had gone shallow. Heat washed over her face, then cold. Her vision wavered.
Mike, waiting outside the OR, caught her elbow just as her knees dipped. “Breathe,” he said gently. “Just breathe.”
She nodded, but the tremor in her hands worsened. She had executed a clean, controlled shot at close range without hesitation. It saved Dante’s life. It saved everyone in the OR.
Now the shock arrived, slow but crushing.
Ford appeared on her other side, having sprinted from the command room when he heard the alert. He slid a steadying hand onto her forearm. “You did what any of us would have done,” he said, voice low. “You saved him.”
Shannon tried to answer but could only shake her head. She watched the gurney roll toward the ICU, her pulse still thundering. “I’m alright. Just… just take care of him. Please.”
Ford nodded. “We will.”
The ICU teamprepared a full isolation bay for Dante. Warmed blankets waited beneath the overhead lights. A dialysismachine hummed on standby. His lab values were already being entered into the chart by a flurry of nurses.
When they wheeled him in, the room fell into organized motion. Monitors were reconnected. The ventilator hissed softly. Lines were secured. A nurse adjusted the warming unit around his feet.
Roe leaned against the wall briefly, catching his breath. He looked dangerously pale, but he managed a faint nod at Shannon as she stepped quietly into the doorway. “He’s stable. Not well. Not safe. But stable.”
Shannon’s boots hit the tile hard. She caught Roe’s arm before he could wave her off. “What are you doing here?” she snapped. “You need help.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Her arm was already around his waist, taking his weight. “You’re bleeding through your dressing.”
She turned and shouted, “Help! Roe’s been shot. He’s bleeding!”
Nurses looked up. A trauma tech pushed off the counter, jogging toward them with a chair.
“I’m walking,” Roe muttered, his stodgy British accent still intact.
“You’re not,” she said. “Sit. Don’t argue.”
