The gun was pointed at Noah.
Everything in Lena’s body went cold.
The red emergency lights flickered across the hospital room, turning everyone into shadows painted in blood.
The man in the doorway didn’t rush.
He didn’t panic.
He simply stood there, calm, steady, the gun in his hand perfectly aligned with the small body lying on the hospital bed.
Noah’s monitor had gone silent when the power failed.
The flat tone still rang faintly in Lena’s ears.
Alex stepped forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Positioning himself between the gun and the bed.
“Lower it,” Alex said.
His voice wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
It carried the quiet authority of someone who had given orders his entire life—and expected them to be obeyed.
The man smiled slightly.
“You’re still dramatic.”
Alex didn’t
