Chapter 38
Russ
The doors to surgery swing open with a soft hiss.
Every muscle in my body locks.
The doctor pulls his mask down slowly, fatigue dragging at his features. There’s dried blood on one sleeve. Deep creases cut through the skin around his eyes.
I’m in front of him before the doors finish closing.
“How is she?”
He exhales once, like he’s choosing the words carefully.
Too carefully.
“We stabilized her.”
Relief punches through my chest so hard my knees almost unlock—
—but it dies just as fast.
Because people don’t pause like that when things are good.
My stare hardens. “Meaning?”
The doctor rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “She had significant internal bleeding. We were able to stop it during surgery, but she lost a dangerous amount of blood.”
The fluorescent lights hum overhead.
Somewhere down the hall, a monitor starts beeping faster.
I barely hear any of it.
“Is she going to make it?”
The question comes out rougher than I intended.
The doctor meets my eyes for one long second.
“It’s going to depend on how her body responds over the next several hours.”
Not yes.
Not no.
Just enough truth to tear a hole straight through my chest.
“If complications start,” he continues carefully, “we may have to take her back into surgery.”
I stare at him.
At the exhaustion in his face.
At the practiced caution in his voice.
He’s done this before.
He’s stood in hallways and handed families hope wrapped in uncertainty.
No.
Not happening.
“She’s stronger than that,” I say quietly.
The doctor’s expression softens just enough to make me hate it.
“I hope you’re right.”
Hope.
The word scrapes down my spine like broken glass.
“When can I see her?”
“They’re moving her to ICU now. A nurse will come get you shortly.”
I nod once because if I try to say anything else, it’s going to come out wrong.
The doctor gives my shoulder a brief squeeze before walking away.
And I stay there in the middle of the hallway, staring at the closed doors Olivia disappeared behind.
Alive.
She’s alive.
Right now, that has to be enough.
Even if it feels like my chest is caving in around it.
Clay
The ride to the hospital is a blur.
Pain sits heavy in my ribs where the round hit my vest, but it’s nothing compared to what Hannah and Stephen are dealing with.
They’re both barely conscious by the time we arrive. The mothers rush inside.
The doors fly open.
Medics rush in.
“Two critical!” one of them shouts.
“Possible internal injuries, dehydration, trauma,” Lucas adds, already moving with them.
They take Hannah first.
Then Stephen.
Both disappearing through the same doors Olivia went through.
That thought hits harder than I expect.
Russ is already there.
Standing in the hallway.
Like he hasn’t moved.
Like he’s been rooted to that exact spot since we left.
He looks up when we come in.
Our eyes meet.
He doesn’t ask.
Doesn’t need to.
“Got them out,” I say.
A beat.
Then he nods.
“Good.”
That’s it.
But I see it.
The shift in his shoulders.
The tension easing just enough.
Because it mattered.
Because Olivia fought for them—and we didn’t leave them behind.
Lucas steps up beside me. “More kids still unaccounted for.”
Russ’s jaw tightens.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
That’s not over.
Not by a long shot.