The hospital room was dim, the steady beep of monitors the only sound accompanying Hawthorne’s shallow breaths. Tubes and wires kept him alive, his body broken, head swathed in thick bandages. Milton stood beside the bed, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes as sharp and unreadable as stone.
The door creaked, and Dr. Zhang Wei stepped inside. His face brightened quickly in a respectful smile as he bowed slightly.
“Mr. Milton.”
Milton didn’t turn. His gaze remained fixed on the battered man lying helpless before him.
“Tell me, Doctor,” his voice was calm, low, yet threaded with menace. “Will he survive this?”
Dr. Zhang hesitated, then adjusted his glasses. “The punches… they severed several arteries. His body went into severe shock. We managed to stabilize him, but the damage is cri
