The room is drenched in dim red light—BLINK… BLINK…—the monitor's rhythm steady but weak—BEEP… BEEP…. I lean over Serafin, brushing damp hair from his forehead.
"Stay with me," I whisper. "Don't even think about leaving me right now."
His fingers twitch weakly—CLENCH—and I press my palm over his, grounding him. "Good… that's good… just breathe with me."
The medic checks his lines—HISS—and mutters under her breath, "He's holding, barely. But any movement—"
"I know," I snap. "I've been here. I've watched every second. Nothing happens without me noticing."
The tactical officer shifts near the doorway—STEP… STEP…—arms crossed, eyes scanning the room. "Your vigilance borders obsession. It could destabilize him further."
I glare at him. "Obsession? You call keeping him alive obsession?"
Serafin groans softly—GROAN—his chest heaving. "Cao…"
"I'm here," I murmur. "I won't leave. Not now. Not ever."
The facility doctor enters quietly—CLICK—eyes scanning the monitors. "Vitals are stable for now. But he's fragile. Any spike in stress—"
"I know," I interrupt sharply. "I'm not leaving him alone. I've been protecting him longer than anyone else here has breathed."
The doctor studies Serafin. "Time is critical. We need to move him to the neurological wing for proper monitoring."
My hands tighten around Serafin's. "Move him? Not without me. He's not stable enough."
"You're not the medical authority here," the officer says, stepping forward—STEP… STEP….
"Try moving him without me," I growl, "and you'll regret it."
Serafin flinches slightly—HNNG—his grip weak. I brush my palm against his hand. "Hey… hey… don't fight this now. Just stay with me."
The doctor exhales slowly. "If we wait too long, his body might not tolerate transfer. But he's too unstable now."
"I don't care," I hiss. "I'd rather risk it here than see him handled by people who think calm detachment is enough to save him."
A faint CLICK echoes from the hallway, making me flinch. My eyes dart toward the door.
The tactical officer frowns. "Someone's approaching."
I tighten my grip on Serafin's hand. "Good. Let them see. Let them all see who keeps him alive."
The medic adjusts the oxygen—HISS—and murmurs, "We have to prepare for anything. A sudden change could—"
"I know!" I snap. "I've been here for every change. Every damn second!"
Serafin murmurs faintly—rasping—"Cao… here…"
"I'm here," I whisper fiercely. "Always. Don't even think about leaving me."
The monitor continues its steady pulse—BEEP… BEEP…—but outside, footsteps grow louder—STEP… STEP…—purposeful, deliberate.
The tension in the room tightens like a vice. Every shadow seems alive, every movement a threat.
I lean over Serafin, brushing sweat from his brow. "We survive this. Together. You and me."
The doctor glances at me, expression unreadable. "If he deteriorates again, we'll have no time. Are you ready for that?"
I meet his eyes. "I've been ready since the moment I refused to step back. Bring it. I'll keep him alive, whatever it takes."
A sudden BANG from the hallway makes both of us jump. The officers tense. The medics stiffen. Serafin's chest heaves.
I tighten my grip on his hand. "Stay with me… stay with me…"
The door rattles—RATTLE…—but no one enters yet. The air is thick with silence, waiting, waiting for the next move.
And I know, deep down, that calm is fleeting.
Because in this facility, someone is always watching. Someone is always waiting.
And the moment they decide to strike…
We'll be ready—or we won't survive.