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Claire sat beside Trad’s bed, silent tears running down her cheeks.
Her assistant Stanley stood behind her, softly running his hands down her back. It was the least s****l and most comforting touch she had ever felt. She was thankful for Stanley - he was fun to be around, but in this shocking time of crisis, he was a rock she could use to hold onto as her soul navigated the unknown waters of what was ahead.
Trad had been at Bozeman Deaconess Hospital for nearly eight hours now. He was admitted with a gunshot wound to the stomach. A team of doctors worked tirelessly to retrieve the bullet, assess its damage and bring their well known patient back to a full recovery.
But something had gone wrong.
Trad was not waking up from the anesthesia. His medical team was unsure why. His vitals
