The air inside The Rossi submarine's medical bay felt heavy, as if every oxygen molecule had been infused with thick anxiety and the pungent scent of antiseptic. There was only the low hum of life support systems and the rhythmic ping of sonar bouncing off the steel walls, creating a choking claustrophobia. Mateo Rossi sat on a cold iron bench, letting Marcus suture the wound on his shoulder without anesthetic. He didn't wince. The stinging pain from the needle piercing his skin was nothing compared to the storm raging inside his head.
Across the room, Elena sat huddled in a corner, cradling Gabriel who, thankfully, had fallen asleep wrapped in a thermal blanket. However, the room's center of gravity wasn't them. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the medical bed in the middle, where Sofia lay
