Her face wrenched in pain, tightening so sharply that even she was surprised by how convincing it felt.
It was only a matter of time before she was being gently but hurriedly picked up, lifted by two nurses whose voices overlapped in frantic concern as they placed her on an emergency bed. The wheels screeched faintly as they pushed her down the hallway, the ceiling lights streaking above her like white flashes.
Still, Dora didn't let up—she continued to groan in pain, clutching her leg as though something had torn through it, even as they moved her from the emergency stretcher to a normal hospital bed and immediately began to ask her multiple questions.
The room, of course, was VIP. That didn't surprise Dora in the slightest; it hardly even made her blink. More importantly, she expected it. Dante's name alone ensured she would never touch anything less than high priority as she slowly began to settle down, forcing her breathing to level even though her nerves were still buzzing.
