Chapter 32

Chapter 32

“We’re losing him again!”

The words cut through everything.

Noise.

Light.

Motion.

Damon froze for half a second outside the ambulance doors rain still clinging to his clothes, blood drying on his hands before something inside him snapped back into motion.

“No,” he said under his breath, already moving.

They were pushing Luca fast through the hospital entrance, wheels rattling over the threshold, fluorescent lights swallowing him whole.

Damon followed.

He didn’t remember crossing the distance.

Didn’t remember the doors sliding open or the burst of sterile air.

Only the sight of Luca being pulled farther and farther away.

Machines.

Hands.

Voices.

Controlled chaos.

“Clear a trauma bay!”

“BP dropping!”

“Get cardiology on standby now!”

Damon tried to keep up, but a nurse stepped into his path.

“Sir”

He barely registered her.

“I need to stay with him.”

“I understand, but you can’t go”

“Yes, I can.”

His voice came out sharper than intended.

Not angry.

Desperate.

Raw.

The nurse didn’t flinch.

She had seen this before.

People like him.

Standing on the edge of losing something they couldn’t survive losing.

“Please,” Damon said, quieter now. “I’m not asking.”

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then

Seraphine’s voice cut through from ahead.

“Let him through.”

The nurse stepped aside immediately.

Damon didn’t waste the opening.

He moved.

Fast.

They turned into a trauma bay, and suddenly everything compressed into one bright, suffocating room.

Luca was lifted from the stretcher onto a hospital bed.

Monitors snapped into place.

Lines checked.

Orders fired like bullets.

Seraphine took control instantly.

“His system’s unstable from a forced stimulant override. We need to counter the cascade before cardiac failure”

“Heart rate irregular dropping again!”

Damon stopped just inside the doorway.

He knew better than to get in the way now.

Knew this wasn’t a place for emotion.

Only precision.

Only skill.

But God

Watching was worse.

So much worse.

Luca’s body jerked again on the table.

Not violently this time.

But enough.

Enough to make Damon’s hands curl into fists at his sides.

“Stay with me,” Damon whispered, even though Luca couldn’t hear him.

Even though he didn’t know if he could.

Seraphine leaned over Luca, checking his pupils, his pulse, his response.

“Push another stabilizer low dose. We can’t shock his system again.”

A doctor nodded quickly, already preparing it.

Damon’s eyes flicked to the monitor.

The line.

Up.

Down.

Uneven.

Wrong.

Too fragile.

Too close to nothing.

“Come on,” Damon breathed.

“You don’t get to leave like this.”

Luca didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

Didn’t fight.

And that

That terrified Damon more than anything.

Because Luca always fought.

Always pushed back.

Even when he was exhausted.

Even when he was hurt.

Even when he wanted to disappear.

This stillness wasn’t him.

It was something taking him.

Something pulling him away.

“No,” Damon said again.

Stronger this time.

Refusing it.

Refusing the possibility.

Seraphine’s voice cut through again.

“Rhythm?”

“Erratic ventricular response”

“Damn it.”

She moved fast.

Too fast.

Damon’s pulse spiked.

“What is it?”

No one answered him.

No one had time.

The room tightened.

Focused.

Everything narrowing toward the same terrifying point.

Luca’s heart.

The monitor skipped.

Once.

Twice.

Then stuttered.

And dropped.

Flat.

For a full second.

Silence.

A hollow, suffocating silence.

“No”

“Charge,” Seraphine snapped.

A crash cart was already there.

Hands moving with brutal efficiency.

Pads placed against Luca’s chest.

Damon’s vision tunneled.

No.

No, no, no

“Clear!”

The shock hit.

Luca’s body jerked sharply against the bed.

The monitor flickered.

Nothing.

Damon’s heart slammed painfully against his ribs.

“Again,” Seraphine ordered.

No hesitation.

No pause.

“Charge.”

Damon couldn’t breathe.

“Clear!”

Another shock.

Another violent jolt.

The machine screamed.

Then

A blip.

Small.

Weak.

But there.

The line moved.

A fragile rhythm stuttering back into existence.

Damon exhaled so hard his knees almost gave out.

But the room didn’t relax.

No one did.

Because they all knew

That wasn’t stability.

That was a fight.

And it wasn’t over.

Seraphine leaned in again, checking everything at once.

“Keep him on oxygen. Maintain pressure. Watch the rhythm if it drops again, we don’t wait.”

The team nodded.

Moving.

Adjusting.

Working.

Damon stood there, frozen between relief and terror.

Alive.

Luca was alive.

But barely.

And the line between that and gone

Was too thin.

Too fragile.

Too easy to break.

Minutes passed.

Or seconds.

Damon couldn’t tell anymore.

Time didn’t feel real in that room.

Only the sound of the monitor.

Only the rise and fall of Luca’s chest.

Only the unbearable waiting.

Seraphine finally stepped back slightly.

Not relaxed.

Not even close.

But less immediate.

Less critical.

For now.

Damon’s voice came out rough.

“Is he”

“Not dying right this second,” she said bluntly.

Damon swallowed.

That wasn’t comfort.

But it was something.

He nodded once.

“I’ll take it.”

Seraphine studied Luca for another moment.

Then looked at Damon.

Really looked this time.

“You bought him time,” she said.

Damon’s chest tightened.

“At what cost?”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because they were both looking at Luca when she said it.

The room slowly shifted.

From chaos.

To controlled vigilance.

Machines still hummed.

Monitors still beeped.

But the frantic urgency had eased.

For now.

Luca lay still on the bed, oxygen mask in place, IV lines steady, heart rhythm fragile but present.

Damon stepped closer.

Carefully.

Like approaching something breakable.

He reached out.

Hesitated.

Then let his fingers brush lightly against Luca’s hand.

Cold.

But not lifeless.

Damon exhaled softly.

“You’re still here,” he murmured.

“Good.”

No response.

But he hadn’t expected one.

Not yet.

Seraphine moved to the side, checking charts, adjusting medications.

But her attention never fully left Luca.

Or Damon.

“You should sit,” she said quietly.

Damon shook his head.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she replied.

He almost smiled.

“No. But I’m staying.”

She didn’t argue.

Didn’t push.

Just nodded once.

Because she understood.

Some people didn’t leave.

Not when it mattered.

Not when everything was hanging by a thread.

Time stretched.

Quiet.

Heavy.

Unforgiving.

Damon didn’t move.

Didn’t sit.

Didn’t look away.

He stayed right there beside Luca.

Watching.

Waiting.

Counting every breath like it mattered.

Because it did.

At some point, Seraphine stepped closer again.

Her voice low.

Measured.

“He’s stable enough for now.”

Damon nodded slowly.

“But?”

She didn’t pretend there wasn’t one.

“The next few hours matter.”

Damon’s chest tightened.

“How?”

“If his body accepts the correction, he’ll recover.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Seraphine held his gaze.

“He won’t.”

The words landed heavy.

Final.

Damon closed his eyes briefly.

Then opened them again.

No room to fall apart.

Not yet.

“Then he will,” Damon said quietly.

Not hope.

Not denial.

A decision.

Seraphine watched him for a long moment.

Then nodded once.

“Then we keep him alive long enough for that to happen.”

The monitor beeped steadily.

Not perfect.

Not strong.

But there.

Alive.

Damon’s hand rested lightly over Luca’s.

Grounding.

Anchoring.

Waiting.

And then

A shift.

Small.

Almost invisible.

Luca’s fingers moved.

Damon’s breath caught.

He leaned in slightly.

“Luca?”

Another movement.

Faint.

But real.

The monitor flickered slightly.

Then steadied again.

Seraphine looked up instantly.

“Hold on”

She stepped closer, watching carefully.

Luca’s brow furrowed slightly.

A tiny crease of discomfort.

Of awareness.

Damon’s heart pounded.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“I’m here.”

Luca’s lips parted slightly under the oxygen mask.

A breath.

Different.

Not mechanical.

Not forced.

His eyelids fluttered.

Once.

Twice.

Then slowly

Opened.

Unfocused at first.

Distant.

Like he wasn’t fully there yet.

Damon leaned closer.

“Luca.”

The name anchored.

Luca’s gaze shifted.

Struggled.

Then found him.

And held.

Recognition.

Clear.

Immediate.

Alive.

Relief hit Damon so hard it almost knocked the breath out of him.

“There you are,” he whispered.

Luca stared at him for a long second.

Then, with visible effort, his fingers tightened weakly around Damon’s hand.

Not strong.

Not steady.

But intentional.

Damon swallowed hard.

“Don’t do that again,” he said quietly.

Luca’s lips moved faintly.

No sound.

But Damon saw it.

Felt it.

“Tried not to.”

A broken laugh escaped him.

“Terrible job.”

Luca’s eyes softened slightly.

Just for a second.

Then

Something changed.

Subtle.

But wrong.

His gaze flickered.

Lost focus.

The crease in his brow deepened.

Confusion.

Damon felt it immediately.

“Hey stay with me.”

Luca’s breathing shifted again.

Not panicked.

But uneven.

Like something inside him wasn’t lining up.

Seraphine stepped in fast.

“His system’s reacting”

The monitor spiked.

Then dipped.

Then spiked again.

Damon’s pulse jumped.

“What’s happening?”

Seraphine didn’t answer right away.

Her focus locked on the readings.

On Luca.

On everything at once.

Then her expression hardened.

And Damon knew.

Before she said it.

Knew this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Luca’s hand suddenly tightened around Damon’s

Harder than before.

Too hard.

His body tensed sharply against the bed.

Eyes wide now

Not with awareness.

With pain.

Real, blinding pain.

The monitor screamed.

“His body’s rejecting it!” someone shouted.

Seraphine’s voice cut through instantly

“Hold him down now!”