Ash tore through the hospital’s sliding doors, his boots hitting the polished floor too hard for the sterile quiet around him. His leather cut made heads turn, but he didn’t care. He was running on raw adrenaline and dread, his chest heaving as he pushed past the receptionist and demanded, “Nurse Cordelia. She was brought here last night. Where the f**k is she?”
The woman behind the desk blinked at him, startled, but when she pulled up the records and saw the look in his eyes—dark, unyielding—she gave him the room number without hesitation.
Ash didn’t wait for directions. He found the elevator, rode it with his jaw locked tight, and when the doors opened, he stalked down the hall until he found the door.
The sight on the other side gutted him.
Cordelia lay unconscious on the hospital b
