AFTERMATH

The sirens never stopped. Even after the ambulance doors slammed shut, the sound followed me, howling through the tunnels of my mind like a warning that refused to quiet.

Hospitals at night always smelled the same: antiseptic and fear. I moved through the corridor in a half‑dream, gown torn, shoes gone, mascara bleeding in dark streaks. People stepped aside when they saw me. Some recognized me…the Alliance woman, and whispered.

Adrian caught up halfway down the hall, still in the black tux from the gala, blood at his cuff from where he’d helped lift Luca into the stretcher. “Evelyn, you need to sit.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m remembering how slow elevators move when someone you care about is bleeding out.”

He hesitated, then guided me toward the waiting area. Glass walls reflected harsh light; outside, news vans already crowded the courtyard like vultures.

Elias appeared minutes later, grey‑faced but composed. “They’ve stabilized him,” he said. “Shoulder wound, some internal b