A D R I A N
The clinic hums with recycled air and adrenaline.
Mira’s color is back, pulse steady, IV dripping slow. Asha calls vitals in a calm voice that sounds like salvation. Kai stands guard at the door, shirt drenched, still barking orders into his radio like the storm hasn’t ended.
I press a cool pack to the girl’s temple and feel her skin cooling under my palm. The small sigh that leaves her chest knocks something loose in mine. She’s going to live. We bought her that.
Elara meets my eyes across the cot with hair damp, throat gleaming with sweat, expression stripped bare of everything but focus. No triumph. Just relief. She exhales once, then looks toward the clinic window where the glass has turned into a wall of faces and flashing lenses.
Marina is out there, tablet lifted li
