The room is silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation system—HHHHMMM… HHHHMMM—and the soft beeps of the monitor—BEEP… BEEP…. Serafin lies pale and trembling on the bed, his chest rising with shallow breaths—HAAH… HAAH….
I press my hand over his, feeling the fragile pulse under my fingers. "Don't leave me, Serafin. Not now, not ever."
A sudden CLACK echoes from the hallway. My head snaps toward the door. The tactical officer steps slightly forward, eyes narrowing. "Stay calm. Nothing has changed… yet."
"Nothing has changed?" I snap. "You hear that? Everything's on edge. Every second he could—"
Serafin groans softly—GROAN—his hand weakly lifting toward mine. "Cao… here…"
"I'm here," I whisper fiercely, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. "I won't let go. I'm not leaving you."
The medic adjusts his oxygen mask—HISS—and checks the IV lines. "His vitals are unstable. Any spike in stress—"
"I know!" I snap, gripping his hand tighter. "I've been monitoring him every second. I know what he needs!"
The tactical officer clears his throat. "Your insistence is… noted. But restraint is required. Emotional interference could be fatal."
I shake my head, pressing my forehead against Serafin's temple. "Restraint won't save him. My presence saves him. My heart keeps him alive. Not your orders, not your calm detached bullshit!"
The monitor beeps rapidly—BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…—and I flinch, glancing at the screen. His pulse spikes, then drops.
"Fuck!" I hiss, holding his wrist. "Stay with me! Come on, don't do this!"
He murmurs faintly—rasping—"Cao… I…"
"I'm here," I whisper fiercely, gripping his hand. "I'm not leaving."
Another sound from the corridor—STEP… STEP…—makes me stiffen. I glance at the officer.
"Who is it now?" I demand.
"Routine monitoring," he says, though his jaw tightens slightly.
I narrow my eyes. "Routine my ass. They're watching us. Waiting. Planning."
Serafin twitches—CLENCH—his fingers weakly curling around mine. I press my palm against his hand. "I won't let them take you. Not now. Not ever."
The medic mutters, "Any sudden movement could destabilize him further. Please, Caoimhe…"
"Do you hear me?" I snap. "I've been watching over him since they nearly killed him. I know what he needs. I'm not stepping back."
The officer exhales sharply. "You're a variable. Unpredictable. That is… dangerous."
"Dangerous?" I hiss. "I'm the only thing keeping him alive right now. And if you think your 'protocols' are more important than him, you're wrong."
A faint CLICK from the hallway makes me freeze. The door is locked—CLICK…—but the shadowy feeling of someone lingering remains.
I lean over Serafin, brushing sweat from his brow. "Stay with me. Don't you dare leave me. Just breathe…"
He murmurs again—rasping—"Cao…"
"I'm here," I whisper, gripping his hand tightly. "Always. I won't leave."
The monitor continues its steady rhythm—BEEP… BEEP…—but the tension in the air is suffocating. Outside, footsteps fade—STEP… STEP…—and I know that the calm is fragile, temporary.
Because in this facility, the shadows are patient. And the next move… the next threat… could strike at any moment.
I squeeze Serafin's hand harder, whispering, "We survive this. Together. Always."
And I know, deep down, that surviving may be only the beginning of the fight.