The red emergency lights blink—BLINK… BLINK…—casting the room in harsh intermittent shadows. Each pulse feels like a warning. Serafin lies pale on the bed, barely conscious, breathing shallow—HAAH… HAAH…—his chest rising and falling with painstaking effort.
I press my hand over his, squeezing gently. "I'm right here, Serafin. Don't leave me. I won't let go."
A soft beep—BEEP… BEEP…—from the monitor underscores every word. I can feel my pulse matching the rhythm, taut, anxious.
The medic adjusts his oxygen mask—HISS—and mutters, "Still critical. His vitals fluctuate, but he's holding."
I shake my head, frustration sharp. "Holding isn't enough! He needs more than 'holding.' He needs breathing room, stability, not this cage."
The tactical officer leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "This is the safest place for him right now. Your interference isn't helping."
I spin toward him, anger flaring. "Interference? He's alive because I'm here. If you think sitting there watching makes you some kind of savior, think again!"
Serafin groans—GROAN—his fingers weakly curling around mine. "Cao… shh…"
"I won't shush you," I whisper fiercely. "You need to stay with me. No one touches you without me seeing it."
The medic glances at the monitor—BEEP… BEEP…—then at me. "You need to step back. Every second of stress can destabilize him."
"Stress?" I hiss. "He's been through more than anyone should endure. And you're telling me stress? I'm keeping him alive!"
The officer exhales sharply. "Your attachment compromises procedure."
I take a step closer, pressing my palm to Serafin's forehead. "My attachment is the only reason you even have a patient here. Don't test me."
A faint CLICK echoes from the hallway outside, making me flinch. My eyes snap to the door.
"What now?" I demand.
"Routine inspection," the officer replies coolly, though his eyes narrow. "They're just ensuring protocol compliance."
I narrow my eyes. "Protocol? Or checking if you've let him out of their control?"
Before he can respond, the shadow of a figure appears in the doorway—STEP… STEP…—tall, deliberate, authority in its presence. I can't see the face clearly, just the sharp line of a uniform and the glint of something metallic.
"Patient secured?" the figure asks, voice calm but clipped.
"Yes," the tactical officer replies immediately.
"And the variable?"
I stiffen, heart hammering. "Variable?" I echo sharply.
"You," the voice says. "Always present. Always unpredictable."
I clench my jaw. "Unpredictable? I'm protecting him. That's predictable."
A soft chuckle echoes—HAHAH—low and unnerving. "We'll see how long that lasts."
The figure steps back—STEP… CLICK—leaving a sense of unease hanging in the air.
I press my forehead against Serafin's, brushing damp hair from his brow. "I'm not letting him go. Not now. Not ever."
He twitches slightly—CLENCH—his fingers weakly holding mine.
The monitor beeps steadily—BEEP… BEEP…—and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Outside, the faint hum of the facility—HHHHMMM… HHHHMMM—fills the corridor. Quiet. Too quiet.
The officer steps closer. "You need to understand. This environment is controlled. Your emotions can disrupt everything."
"I understand one thing," I hiss, voice low, eyes never leaving Serafin. "Touch him, move him without me, and I will tear this place apart. I don't care who's watching or who's giving orders."
The officer studies me, lips pressed tight. "Noted. But understand this—sometimes survival requires compromise."
I look at Serafin, his chest rising and falling slowly, then back at the officer. "I won't compromise when it comes to him. Not now. Not ever."
Another faint CLICK from the hallway makes me flinch. I glance at the door—locked automatically—but the sense of someone lingering in the shadows gnaws at me.
I press my hand over Serafin's, brushing the sweat from his temple. "Stay with me. Just stay with me."
He murmurs faintly—rasping—"Cao… here…"
"I'm here," I whisper fiercely. "Always. I won't leave you."
The monitor continues its fragile rhythm—BEEP… BEEP…—but outside, footsteps fade—STEP… STEP…—and I realize, with a sinking certainty, that the quiet is only temporary.
Because in this facility, the shadows are watching. And the next move… could come from anywhere.