Page 47 of Shadows of Recovery

The night was far from over, but as they loaded Sophie into the ambulance for transport to the field hospital, Tristan couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. The fight wasn’t over either—Damon might have escaped, but Tristan wouldn’t rest until he was caught. Until Sophie was safe, truly safe. For Sophie, he would do whatever it took.

* * *

The ambulance hurtledthrough the dark, snowy path, its siren wailing urgently, slicing through the stillness of the night. Tristan sat beside Sophie, his heart pounding in time with the flashing lights outside. His hand held hers tightly, as if his grip alone could keep her tethered to life. The chill of her skin against his palm sent a shiver down his spine, a constant reminder of how close she was to slipping away.

Sophie lay unconscious on the stretcher, her body battered and bruised. Tristan’s chest tightened as he gently adjusted the oxygen mask over her face, his fingers brushing against her cheek. “Sophie, please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Stay with me. We’re almost there.”

The paramedics worked around him, their movements quick and precise. They had already wrapped Sophie in thermal blankets, trying to combat the hypothermia that threatened to steal her life. The interior of the ambulance was cramped, filled with the sounds of beeping monitors and the steady vibration of the road beneath them.

“Her temperature is dangerously low,” one of the paramedics reported, his voice tense. “We need to get her warmed up—fast.”

Tristan nodded, his mind racing. “Keep those blankets tight. We have to keep her stable until we reach the field hospital.” Despite his professional demeanor, the fear eating at him was impossible to ignore. Sophie wasn’t just another patient—she was everything to him.

As the ambulance made its way toward the field hospital, Tristan’s thoughts flickered to the chaos they were rushing into. James, his brother, and Jenna Cade, Sophie’s best friend, were already there, treating the injured from the raid, along with the patients and staff being evacuated from Waverly County Hospital. Jenna was more than capable, but the thought of what awaited them made his stomach churn.

“Hang in there, Sophie,” Tristan murmured, leaning closer to her. “We’re almost there. You’ve got to fight, okay? I’m right here with you.”

The minutes felt like hours as the ambulance finally approached the field hospital, the sprawling setup illuminated by harsh floodlights. As soon as they arrived, the back doors flew open, and Tristan met the emergency response team. The night air was thick with the scent of smoke and antiseptic, a stark reminder of the battle they were still fighting. Brad slipped out of the passenger side, watching.

“Let’s go!” Tristan called out, his voice commanding as he helped the paramedics lift Sophie onto another stretcher. They wheeled her toward the triage area where James and Jenna were working, their faces tense.

Jenna looked up from the patient she was treating, her eyes widening as she saw Sophie. “Get her into the heated tent now!” she ordered, immediately snapping into action. “We need to stabilize her and get her temperature up.”

James, who had been working on another injured staff member, glanced over and saw his brother’s worried expression. He called out with urgency, “You’re the damn ER doc. Help me out here.”

Tristan shook off the helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him, forcing his professional instincts to take over. His voice steadied as he called out orders, his demands clear and sharp. “Cut her wet clothing off and preserve it in paper bags. Get me a core temperature. Warm blankets! Draw a full panel of blood, including tox screen. Urine, ECG. Start running warm fluids. Run Ancef.”

As he spoke, he focused on treating Sophie as he would any trauma patient, pushing aside the fact that this was the woman he loved lying before him, her life hanging in the balance. The medical team moved with meticulousness, responding to his commands with the efficiency he demanded.

But as they worked, the extent of Sophie’s injuries became painfully clear. Her body was covered in three-inch lacerations, the wounds angry and infected, a horrifying testament to the ordeal she had endured. Tristan’s heart ached with every new discovery, but he forced himself to remain focused.

“We need to get her washed off,” Tristan said, his voice strained with worry. “She’s going to have infections from lying in the mud and sewage.”

James, working across from his brother, glanced up at him and then down at Sophie’s injuries. His voice was gentle but firm. “Tristan, time to let another doctor handle her.”

Before Tristan could protest, Jenna finished with her other patient and rushed to his side. “Tristan, be a boyfriend right now. Let the team do their job,” she said, her voice calm but insistent. She took charge of the situation with a steady hand.

James nodded, recognizing the authority in Jenna’s demeanor. “Tristan, does Waverly Junction Hospital have neurosurgery capability? I think we’re looking at a brain bleed.”

Tristan’s mind raced, his professional instincts battling with his emotional turmoil. “Yes, they do, but I want you to use Waverly County’s personnel.”

Jenna looked down at Sophie, then stepped closer to Tristan, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “She’s in good hands. You need to trust us. Right now, Sophie needs you to be there for her emotionally.”

Tears welled up in Tristan’s eyes as he looked down at Sophie, her battered and broken body almost unrecognizable. The thought of losing her was unbearable, but Jenna was right. “I love you, Sophie. We’re going to get you through this. Please hang on.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her dirty forehead.

The medical team worked swiftly, washing the mud and sewage from Sophie’s body, treating her open wounds, and warming her cold limbs. Tristan coordinated the transport to Waverly Junction Community Hospital, knowing every second counted. His hands moved mechanically, his mind a whirlwind of fear, hope, and love.

As they prepared to move Sophie, Tristan held her hand tightly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside him. “Sophie, you’re strong. You’re a fighter. We’re going to get you the help you need.”

* * *

James Blackwell,a skilled neurosurgeon, worked tirelessly with the team from Waverly County Hospital, utilizing every resource available at the community hospital. They had just reviewed Sophie’s CT scan, and what James saw confirmed his worst fears.

“Sophie has a subdural hematoma,” James explained to the team. “It’s a collection of blood between the dura mater and the brain. This bleeding puts pressure on the brain, and if we don’t relieve it soon, it will cause permanent damage or worse.”

The team nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. But the subdural hematoma wasn’t the only injury. The scan revealed a series of fractures: a broken eye orbit, shattered cheekbones, fractured ribs, a clot on the spleen, a broken left radius and ulna, and a fractured right tibia. The extent of Sophie’s injuries was horrifying, a testament to the brutal ordeal she had endured.

“We need to take her to the OR immediately,” James said, his voice firm. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions get the better of him now. “We’ll start with the hematoma and stabilize her other injuries as we go.”

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