Camila floated in grey half‑consciousness as voices echoed around her. Bright operating lights blurred overhead. A cool hand pressed against her arm. She blinked once, twice. Julian's face swam into focus—pale, gaunt, eyes rimmed red.
“Camila," his whisper cracked. “Stay with me."
She tried to speak, but her mouth tasted like iron. Monitors beeped in a frantic syncopation. She realized with a jolt: this was the moment of truth.
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**Parallel Theaters, Bellevue Secure Wing**
A corridor divided into two mirrored OR suites. On the left, surgical teams swarmed around Julian's table. On the right, Camila lay on the gurney, anesthesia mask slipping from her face.
Dr. Salazar's voice came over the intercom: “Begin full transfusion protocol." He studied the data projected a
