An hour had passed since Devon left the theater, the adrenaline from the intense surgery fading gradual into a steady hum of deep satisfaction that lingered warm in his chest as he made his way through the hospital corridors.
The building felt alive and breathing even in these quieter pre-dawn hours, soft beeps echoing distant from patient rooms like a gentle lullaby of machines watching over lives.
He moved with that natural, unhurried stride that spoke of confidence without arrogance, white coat slung loose over his scrubs for the rounds, the fabric cool against his skin.
He was walking by one of the general wards on the third floor, footsteps soft on the polished linoleum that reflected the overhead lights faint, when something caught his attention sharp—a faint groan from inside the room, low but carrying real pain that tugged at his instincts like a string pulled tight.
