Yuna kicked at the table.
Ares looked at me.
That look said he was two seconds from snapping.
“I’m not wrestling anymore,” he muttered. “Stick her.”
The head nurse nodded once and drew the syringe she pulled from her scrubs pocket.
“Olanzapine,” she said professionally. “Ten milligrams. Non addictive. It will reduce agitation.”
Yuna tried to jerk away, but security held her arms steady.
The needle went in.
She cursed.
Then her body slowly powered down.
Within minutes, her breathing evened out. Shoulders dropped. Eyes heavy.
The nurse continued, all business.
“Vitals are elevated but stable. Blood pressure 154 over 96. Pulse 118. She is in withdrawal. We will begin monitored detox immediately.”
I crossed my arms. “What are you using?”
The nurse answered clearly.
“Clonidine for blood pressure and withdrawal symptoms. Hydroxyzine for anxiety. Ondansetron for nausea. IV fluids for hydration. Low-dose Diazepam only if tremors escalate, and only under physician approval. No opioids. No substitutions.”
Ares watched her like she might disappear.
“How long before she calms down?” he asked.
“The next seventy-two hours are critical,” the nurse said. “After that, we reassess. She will have round-the-clock monitoring and surveillance in the room.”
They lifted her carefully and carried her upstairs to the main suite overlooking the countryside. The room looked like royalty.
She looked like a ghost in it.
When the team cleared out, Ares and I finally exhaled.
We went to the kitchen.
No liquor in the house. That was intentional.
We grabbed water.
He stood at the island staring at nothing.
“You good?” I asked.
“Nah,” he replied honestly.
“She looked at me like I did this to her,” I said finally.
He leaned back on the counter. “Nah, your family did this to her.”
