Hale started rattling off vitals. Hunt responded in shorthand. They moved fast through the heated corridor. Dante walkedbeside the stretcher, close enough his knuckles brushed the metal rail.
Mack looked him over like he was scanning for damage. “We’ve got her. Now let’s see what the hell they did to her.”
Dante didn’t answer because he wasn’t leaving. Not today. Not tonight. Not until she opened her eyes again and knew he was right there. He followed them inside.
TRAUMA RECOVERY BAY – 0745 HOURS
The doors whispered shut behind the gurney, sealing Shannon inside the ICU bay.
For a beat, all Dante could do was breathe, trying to anchor himself to the faint, steady beeping coming from the other side of the glass.
She was in there. Alive. Sedated. Hanging on.
Hunt turned to him and Sam, surgical mask still around his neck, scrubs wrinkled from the transfer. He always looked calm in chaos, but tonight there was an edge beneath it. A razor of urgency only someone who cared would even notice.
“We’re doing another full-body CT and bloodwork,” Hunt said. “If there’s even a whisper of internal damage, I want eyes on it.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “You think she’s still bleeding?”
Hunt shook his head immediately. “She’s stable, but the pelvis took more force than we anticipated. Hip displacement like that can hide fractures. Hidden bleeds. Nerve issues. I wanteverything scanned. She has a temp, so I’m looking for an abscess.”
Dante nodded, not because he agreed but because he needed to believe someone in this building was capable of making the right call.
Hunt wasn’t finished. “And after the CT, we roll her into MRI. Brain, chest, pelvis. Comprehensive.”
Sam swallowed, shifting beside Dante. He looked wrecked in his cadet uniform.
Hunt looked between them both, then stepped closer, switching from surgeon to something else. Something commanding. “But before all that, you two are going to listen to me.”
Dante met his eyes and didn’t blink.
“You’re going to shower. Eat. And you’re going to get four hours of sleep before she wakes up again.”
Dante didn’t move. Didn’t answer.
Hunt’s voice softened, but the steel stayed. “You’ll be no good to her like this. We’ve got her stabilized. Let us do our jobs. You need to last the night.”
Dante’s throat worked once before he got the words out. “I’m not leaving this building.”
“You don’t have to,” Hunt replied. “Suite’s directly above us. Penthouse level. Two bedrooms. Blackout blinds. Hot water.”
Sam’s voice finally cracked. “Sir… I don’t want her alone.”
Hunt nodded. “She won’t be. Mack’s stationed outside her door. Hale’s on vitals. If a monitor blinks wrong, I’ll know before the nurses do.”
He handed Dante a keycard, warm from Hunt’s hand. “You’ll be the first call if anything changes. Both of you.” And then he was gone, already disappearing into the organized storm of the trauma bay.
Sam released a shaky breath as Dante stared through the glass one more time, watching the faint rise of Shannon’s chest. Then he turned toward the elevators. Not because he wanted to. Not because he believed he should. But because he needed to stay on his feet for her when she woke up.
PENTHOUSE SUITE – 45 MINUTES LATER
The suite was quiet in a way that felt unnatural. Too polished. Too still. The kind of room meant for rest, not for men who hadn’t known rest in days.
Fog drifted over the Mississippi outside the windows, the city wrapped in an early-morning haze. Dante stood at the glass, arms braced on the cool surface, his reflection staring back at him, tension in his jaw so sharp, it ached.
Behind him, Sam sat on the couch, posture slumped, uniform rumpled, exhaustion heavy in his eyes. Neither spoke at first. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Then Sam finally said, “You love her.”
