Then she was lifted into the night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Three hours later, the staffers at Northwestern’s ICU finally gave Luke permission to enter Finley’s room. This hospital, located thirty minutes from Misty River, was the only facility in this part of the state large enough to receive patients by helicopter. He walked down the hallway, watching the numbers beside each doorway increase.

201. 202. 203.

This was it. 204. Finley’s room.

Emotions gathered heavy in his chest as he let himself inside.

Everything about this hospital room was as expected. The automated bed. The dull wallpaper, windows, machines. One thing in this room, though, was so wrong that it jarred the air from his lungs.

The sight of Finley, lying unmoving. Still unconscious.

He came to a stop near her shoulder. Lines and tubes were attached to her. She looked pale, frail, and vulnerable.

He felt as if he were caving in on himself.

His love for her was a fire inside. Bigger than time.

Helplessly, angrily, he wished it were him with the brain injury. Him in the hospital bed. Never, never her.

“I’m here.” His voice came out rusty.

He hadn’t succeeded at the one thing he’d promised Ed and himself he’d do: protect Finley. Everything about tonight had gone wrong.

If she recovered—when she recovered—he would get everything right. No more mistakes. He would do whatever it took to help her heal. He would be careful and patient. He had a lot of strength, and he would give it all to her. He would make sure the Vance brothers were brought to justice.

Finley had seen how difficult he could be. Now she would see how sacrificial he could be.

For long minutes, he remained at her bedside like a statue. Then he sent a text to Ben and moved to the chair in the corner. He hunched over, holding his head in his hands, silently begging God to heal Finley.

Around midnight, someone rapped on the door, then opened it.

Ben had come, but he hadn’t come alone. Sebastian, Natasha, and Genevieve flanked him.

A Miracle Five reunion.

Feeling wasted and one hundred years old, Luke pushed to his feet.

They regarded him with concern.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Ben asked.

Luke did so, as quickly as possible.

The officers had viewed his story with suspicion, yet not one of these four questioned it. Ben, Genevieve, Natasha, and Sebastian had no reason to have faith in him. But they did.

“What can we do to help?” Genevieve asked.

“I need an understanding . . .” A lump lodged in his throat. “I need an understanding of Finley’s diagnosis and condition. Because of privacy regulations, they wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I’m on it,” Sebastian said. “I have privileges here because I occasionally consult on cases.” He left the room.

“What else?” Ben asked.

“Finley will want someone to go by tonight and take care of her animals.”