Nolan POV
Lance and Cassian sat in the waiting room, close together, exchanging worried looks. I couldn’t bring myself to sit with them. Instead, I paced a few feet away, my heart racing—rage and fear a heady mix that refused to let me rest.
We had been rushed here straight from the chaos, and I felt like a clown pacing around in this damn suit, surrounded by the sterile smell of bleach and lemon-scented cleaners.
Everything was too bright, too sharp. Hospitals were always liminal spaces—caught between real life and the unthinkable—and the weight of that truth pressed on me until it felt like if I stopped moving, I’d never be able to start again.
The automatic doors swished open. A doctor approached, his face stern, carefully blank, but his eyes betrayed him. There was a storm there.
