[Alexander’s POV]
The rubber soles of my boots squeaked violently against the pristine linoleum floors of the intensive care wing. I wasn’t just walking; I was moving on pure, adrenaline-fueled instinct, tearing through the double doors of the Emergency Room with a hollow, feral desperation clawing at my chest. The hospital smelled of sickening antiseptic, cold metal, and the heavy, terrifying scent of mortality.
"Where is she, where's my wife?" My voice came out as a rough, gravelly rasp, stopping a passing nurse dead in her tracks. I grabbed her by the shoulder, my grip entirely too tight, my knuckles white. "Ruby. Where is she?"
"Sir, you need to calm down—"
"Alexander!"
Allie’s voice shattered the clinical quiet. She burst from the waiting recess, her face pale, her eyes red
