Page 54 of Pursuit of Her

"Penny's extracting her now," Sophia assured her, adjusting the makeshift pressure bandage where blood had begun seeping through. "Separate vehicle, separate route."

The van descended a ramp into an abandoned parking garage beneath a condemned textile factory. The concrete wall ahead split open, revealing a hidden passage that sealed behind them once they'd entered.

"Welcome to the Sanctuary," Elena said. "Network's central medical facility. Off the grid, fully equipped."

The tunnel opened into a cavernous space transformed into a sophisticated medical center. Energy-efficient lighting shone on pristine equipment arranged with hospital-grade precision.

Dr. Eliza Hammond led the waiting medical team, her dark hair pulled back in a bun. At fifty-two, the former head of trauma surgery at Phoenix Ridge General moved with focused efficiency.

"Status?" Eliza demanded as the back doors opened.

"GSW to upper right chest, exit wound posterior shoulder," Sophia reported as they transferred Reagan to a waiting gurney. "Surgery at PRGH approximately nine hours ago. Significant blood loss. BP seventy over fifty and dropping."

Reagan hissed as they lifted her, the movement igniting fresh fire across her chest. The world tilted and blurred, darkness encroaching at the edges of her vision.

"Get her into Trauma One," Eliza ordered. "Blood type?"

"O negative," Sophia supplied. "Two units ready."

They wheeled her into a surgical suite where bright lights momentarily blinded her. Equipment beeped and hummed as the team transferred her to the table.

"I need to check the surgical site," Eliza explained, cutting away the blood-soaked bandages. "The extraction likely tore sutures."

The bullet had struck just below Reagan's collarbone, tearing through muscle and shattering bone before exiting through her upper back. The hospital's surgeons had repaired the immediate damage, but the hasty escape had compromised their work.

"Three torn sutures, internal bleeding resumed," Eliza assessed. "We need to go back in."

"Local or general?" an assistant asked.

"Her body's already traumatized from one general anesthetic. Local with sedation."

As they prepared, Reagan's thoughts turned to Eve. Was her extraction proceeding as planned? Had Martinez discovered their absence yet?

"Last update from Penny has her en route," Sophia assured her. "ETA twenty minutes."

Relief washed through Reagan, momentarily stronger than the pain. They had both survived and escaped.

Eliza worked with methodical precision, repairing damage while explaining each step. "The bullet fractured your scapula and tore through the subclavian muscle. You're lucky it missed the subclavian artery."

"Not luck," Reagan managed. "Training. Turned my body... angle of entry..."

"You intentionally angled yourself to redirect the bullet's path away from major vessels. While jumping in front of someone else's bullet."

Eliza stayed silent while focusing on closing the repaired blood vessel then continued, "When you started executing members of the Phoenix Network, we monitored from a distance. When you reconnected with Captain Morgan, some of us had concerns."

"She proved herself," Elena added from where she monitored communications. "The evidence exposure wouldn't have succeeded without her."

"And now she's as wanted as you are," Eliza concluded. "Every law enforcement agency in Phoenix Ridge will be hunting both of you."

The reality crystallized with terrible clarity. Eve hadn't just risked her career; she'd destroyed it. She had abandoned everything she'd built over twenty years and became a fugitive alongside the vigilante she'd once hunted.

"We knew the risks," Reagan said.

"Did she?" Eliza challenged gently. "Or did you pull her into your crusade without considering the cost to her life?"

The question struck, finding the vulnerable space between Reagan's certainty and her fears. Had she been selfish in allowing Eve to join her mission?

Alarms sounded—notification tones for expected arrivals.

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