Darkness pressed in, even though lights glowed overhead. Machines droned, their steady pulse clashing with Elara’s uneven breaths. A man named Silas stayed motionless near the wall, limbs splayed out after the fall. Red spread slowly beneath him, bright against tile too clean to belong there.
"Don't you dare die," Elara whispered, her voice cracking. "We have a contract, Silas. You don’t get to leave early."
On shaky legs, she reached the medicine cupboard she’d noticed before. Fingers trembling, one by one, ripped into the emergency pouch. Years of patchwork work filled her past - time behind a pharmacy counter during the worst stretch - but none of that led here. Not really. Pulling lead from rich men? Never came up in training.
Her fingers tugged at the torn fabric near his collar. N
