“Sir,” Martinez interjected, “we’ll need to verify everything before release.” “Of course,” Rowe said, though his shoulders had begun to tense. “I’ve waited long enough.” His eyes darted toward the exit sign. The bear’s head rose higher, nostrils flaring. Its growl deepened—a thunder rolling through tile and glass.
Nurses froze mid-step. Visitors turned. The sound carried like a warning carved from the earth itself. Rowe took half a step back, mask of civility cracking. “What’s wrong with that creature?” he snapped. “Maybe it remembers something you forgot,” Martinez replied coldly, his hand sliding toward his phone.