The medical tent was silent except for the steady beep of the monitor.
Bright lights shone down on the operating table, reflecting medical metal instruments. The air smelled of disinfectant, outside, guards stood firm, and radios buzzed with low voices.
She stood over the patient, hands steady, eyes focused.
The man on the table was one of the local authority leaders, the same man who had blocked evacuation routes, the same man who had pressured Zenith and threatened the mission.
Now, his life depended on her.
“Vitals,” Yvonne said calmly.
“Blood pressure unstable,” a nurse replied. “Internal bleeding confirmed.”
Yvonne nodded.
“Prepare for immediate surgery,” she said.
No one questioned her, not even for a second.
Adrian stood near the edge of the tent, watching her, he had seen
