Nathan pushed the door open with his shoulder, holding Fiona tightly in his arms. Her body was limp against him, her head resting weakly on his chest. The house lights were still on—dim but alive—because everyone had refused to sleep until she returned.
Anne was the first to react. She stood up from the couch the second she heard the door open, her hands flying to her mouth, a loud gasp escaping her. "Nathan—oh God—Fiona!" Her voice trembled as she rushed toward him.
Gabriel stood quickly too, his posture stiffening, his eyes widening as he took in the sight: pale Fiona, trembling, and barely conscious. Natasha rose slowly, staring at the Fiona in Nathan's arms as if she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing.
"Nathan," Anne breathed, panic spilling from her eyes, "is she okay? Is she hurt? My God—what happened to her?"
"She's fine," Nathan managed, though his voice was rough, strained. "She will be. I already called the doctor. He's on his way."
