The doctors decided within minutes that the sedative had to be flushed out. Elena prepped IV lines, adjusted drips, and checked the girl’s vitals. Her breathing was shallow now, her lips pale as paper. “We’re taking her to surgery,” the surgeon said. Elena nodded, even as she felt the weight of eyes on her back.
Through the glass, Valorian was on his feet again. He could sense the shift—the urgency, the sudden whirl of green scrubs. When they rolled the gurney past him, he let out a low, trembling growl that sounded more like confusion than anger. “Easy, boy,” Elena murmured. “She’s in good hands. You did your part.”