The sterile white lights of the hospital felt surreal, almost too bright after the chaos we had just escaped. Nurses rushed past, doctors spoke in hushed tones, and the distant beeps of machines filled the silence as we waited for news on Lucas. My heart hadn't stopped racing since we'd arrived. Every second felt like a ticking clock, pushing us closer to losing him—and the answers he held.
William paced the hallway, his jaw clenched, eyes sharp and restless. Ethan was on the phone, likely getting updates from his contacts, trying to figure out if Ferraro had indeed made this move or if we were dealing with something—or someone—else entirely.
I stood there, leaning against the cold wall, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. I kept replaying the moment we found Lucas, slumped in that chair, bleeding and unconscious. I couldn't get the image out of my head. The blood, the betrayal—it was all tangled together in a way that made my stomach churn.
