The chief trauma surgeon, Dr. Aris Thorne, stopped a mere three feet away from Elena, his eyes locking directly onto her shaking form. The heavy blue medical mask hung limply around his neck, revealing a face deeply lined with exhaustion but carrying a sudden, profound shift in expression.
"The bullet missed his ascending aorta by less than a centimeter," Dr. Thorne said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly tone that cut through the sterile quiet of the corridor. "He suffered extensive internal hemorrhaging and a lacerated left lung. There were two distinct episodes on the table where we nearly lost him completely, Miss Ross."
Elena felt her knees buckle. She reached out wildly, her blood-stained fingers gripping the edge of the leather sofa to keep from collapsing to the floor. "Is
