Anna was already running the possibilities in her head before the gurney burst through the ER doors.
Blunt abdominal trauma. The way the paramedic’s voice had clipped over the radio told her enough. Bleeding that didn’t want to announce itself—the kind that hid, pooled and waited.
A nicked vessel, maybe. A ruptured spleen. Liver. Something vital touched in just the wrong way.
Too much blood lost before anyone realized how bad it was.
The patient didn’t look older than eighteen. That struck her harder than it should have, even as her hands were already gloving up. Young faces always did this to her—made everything sharper, more urgent. All that living ahead of them, all those small, careless plans that assumed time was guaranteed.
She wouldn’t let it end here. Not if there was anythi
