Page 76 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

Behind me, Damien places a steady hand on my shoulder. His voice is measured, a stark contrast to my frantic tone.

"Ma'am," he says, stepping forward. "We apologize for the commotion. Our girlfriend was brought in about ten minutes ago. Willow Carter. Can you tell us anything about her condition?"

Vincent paces nearby, his fingers raking through his disheveled hair. Tears streak his face as he mutters under his breath, "Willow’s okay, she got here in time and she is okay."

The receptionist's eyes dart between the three of us—me, wild-eyed and desperate; Damien, composed but with tension evident in the set of his jaw; and Vincent, practically falling apart.

"Our? Are any of you married?" she asks, fingers hovering over her keyboard.

"We're as good as married," I snap.

Damien squeezes my shoulder in warning. "I'm her emergency contact," he says smoothly. "Damien Sterling. It should be in her file."

The receptionist types something, her eyes scanning the screen. After what feels like an eternity, she nods.

"She's in Trauma Room 3. The doctors are with her now." She points down a hallway. "But you can't?—"

I'm already moving before she can finish her sentence, with Damien right behind me. Vincent stumbles after us, his breathing ragged.

"Sir! You can't go back there yet!" the receptionist calls after us, but her voice fades as we rush down the corridor.

A nurse steps out of a room ahead, blocking our path. "Excuse me, you can't be here. This area is restricted to?—"

"Willow Carter," I cut in. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

The nurse's expression softens slightly. "Are you family?"

"I'm her emergency contact," Damien repeats, steppingforward again, his calm demeanor a lifeline in the chaos. "Damien Sterling."

The nurse nods. "Ms. Carter is being stabilized. The doctor will come speak with you as soon as they can. Please, wait in the family room." She gestures to a small room off to the side.

"Stabilized?" Vincent chokes out, his voice breaking. "What does that mean? Is she going to be okay?"

The nurse looks at him sympathetically. "The doctors are doing everything they can. Please, wait in the family room."

As she walks away, the three of us exchange glances. The initial adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving raw fear in its wake.

"She'll be okay," Damien says firmly, though I can hear the doubt creeping into his voice. "Willow's a fighter. She'll be okay."

Vincent collapses into a chair in the family room, burying his face in his hands. "What the fuck? Our girl-”

"Don't," I interrupt, sitting beside him. "Don't do that. Just wait until we see her ."

The waiting room feels like a prison cell. Vincent hasn't moved from his hunched position, staring vacantly at the linoleum floor. Damien stands by the window, watching the sunset paint the sky in mocking shades of pink and orange. I've worn a path in the carpet from pacing, stopping only to harass the nurses for updates every fifteen minutes.

Coffee cups and vending machine wrappers litter the table between us. None of us has spoken in over an hour.

The sound of the door opening makes all three of us snap to attention. A doctor in rumpled scrubs enters, clutching a tablet. Dark circles under her eyes suggest she's been working for far too long.

"Family of Willow Carter?" she asks, her voice gentle but weary.

We practically pounce on her. Vincent stumbles to his feet, Damien strides over, and I move so quickly I knock over an empty coffee cup.

"How is she?" I demand.

The doctor takes a deep breath. "I'm Dr. Patel. Ms. Carter is stable, but her condition is critical."

"What happened?" Damien asks, his composure finally starting to crack.

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