The hospital doors swung open, and the night air hit them, sharp and cold. Samantha moved beside Maximus, quiet, her steps a little shaky, like she wasn’t sure where to put her weight. He didn’t push her forward. His hand stayed at her back, steady, almost casual, though his chest felt tight, restless, like something was clawing inside him.
His bodyguards followed. Boots hitting the floor in rhythm, too loud, too heavy. Even they felt it, the change in the air, like something pressing down. The Press Lord came after, file clutched too tight, shoulders bent, guilt hanging off him. Nobody spoke—no one dared.
Maximus’s voice came low. Measured, steady.
“Clear the way.”
“Bring the car.”
No roar. No fury. Just calm words, clipped, heavy enough to press silence into the corridor. Nurses shu
