The emergency room smelled like antiseptic and too many second chances.
Sierra sat beside Julian's bed in the private ICU suite, her palms stained with dried blood, her fingers still twitching from adrenaline.
He hadn't woken up yet.
Machines beeped softly around him. Oxygen hissed. Monitors blinked with heart rate graphs she'd memorized during Phoenix trial research.
Marcus Lang entered quietly. “You saved his life."
“No," Sierra replied without looking up. “He saved mine. Again."
Lang sighed, handing her a tablet. “Surgery's no longer optional. His heart's degrading faster than projected. I've submitted for emergency approval of the CRISPR protocol you and Naomi pushed forward."
Sierra took it. “Survival rate?"
“Still under fifteen percent."
She pressed her lips together. “That'
