40. Olivia
Olivia
The darkness feels endless.
Not cold.
Not painful.
Just… heavy.
For a while, I think I’m still there.
Still strapped to the chair.
Still waiting for the next door to open.
The next footsteps.
The next voice.
My pulse jumps at the thought, panic sparking sharp and sudden—
—but it fades almost immediately.
Because this silence is different.
No screaming.
No metal scraping against concrete.
No fear crawling beneath my skin.
Just a low, steady sound somewhere nearby.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
A monitor.
Hospital.
The realization drifts through me slowly, like smoke.
I try to open my eyes.
Nothing happens.
My body feels impossibly far away.
Heavy.
Disconnected.
Panic flickers again—
until I hear him.
“…I’m here.”
Russ.
Even weak and distant, his voice cuts through the dark instantly.
My chest tightens around it.
I try to move toward the sound.
Try to reach for it.
But my body won’t cooperate.
“…don’t leave me…”
The words wrap around me softly.
Not demanding.
Not angry.
Just tired.
Raw.
Images flicker through my head in broken flashes.
The chair.
Blood on the floor.
The room spinning.
Then him.
Standing in the doorway like something out of a dream.
Fury in his eyes.
Relief in mine.
He came.
Of course he came.
Warmth spreads faintly through my chest at the memory.
A tether.
Something pulling me upward through the dark.
Stay.
The word drifts through me.
Then his voice again, rougher this time.
“…didn’t come this far to lose you…”
A weak breath slips past my lips.
I can’t feel it happen, but somewhere nearby, a machine changes rhythm for half a second.
I try again.
Fighting through the heaviness.
Toward him.
Because if I can still hear Russ—
then I’m still here too.
Clay
The room is quiet.
But not the good kind.
The kind that means everyone is thinking the same thing.
We didn’t get them all.
Lucas leans over the table, pulling up the layout Olivia described.
“East wing infirmary,” he says. “Lower surgical level here. If they started moving them when things went bad, they’re not staying put.”
“No,” I agree. “They’ll relocate. Fast.”
Miles crosses his arms. “We hit them hard. They won’t sit still after that.”
Exactly.
Which means we’re already behind.
I glance toward the hallway.
Toward ICU.
Russ hasn’t left her side.
Hasn’t even looked in here.
“Status on the kids we got?” I ask.
“Stable,” Lucas answers. “Shaken, but they’ll make it.”
Good.
That’s something.
“What about Hannah and Stephen?”
“Being worked on.”
Another nod.
Then silence again.
Heavy.
Because we all know what’s next.
“We go back,” Miles says.
Not a question.
A fact.
I meet his gaze.
“Yeah.”
Lucas exhales. “With or without Russ?”
That’s the problem.
Because Russ isn’t leaving her.
Not like this.
Not when she’s barely holding on.
I run a hand over my jaw.
“He won’t go.”
“No,” Miles agrees. “He won’t.”
“Then we don’t wait.”
That settles it.
We move.
We finish what we started.
And we bring the rest of those kids home.