Twenty minutes later, the automatic doors of the ER slid open and Victor walked in like he owned the entire hospital. Not arrogantly. Not loudly. Just with presence—solid, centered, sharp enough that people moved out of his way without realizing they were doing it.
His suit jacket was over his arm, tie loose, hair still damp like he'd rushed through a shower. When his eyes found Willow, sitting silently in the waiting area with her discharge papers trembling in her hand, his expression changed.
He crossed to her quickly, kneeling in front of her, studying her face with a focus that made her look away.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
She couldn't speak. Couldn't find the sentence. Couldn't even meet his eyes. He didn't press. He just stood, draped his jacket over her shoulders, and helped her to her feet.
"Let's go."
She followed wordlessly.
