ICU. That wasn’t good. ICU was for people on the verge. The nurse took pity on me and added, “That’s completely normal for patients coming out of a serious surgery.”

The doctor nodded. “The bullet damaged a piece of Ms. O’Connor’s liver. We performed a partial removal of the damaged area—”

“You took a part of her liver?” I barked. “She needs that to live, doesn’t she?”

“The liver regenerates. She has the potential to make a full recovery,” she explained.

“Potential?” My voice cracked on the single word.

“Ms. O’Connor had a second code during surgery. We were able to get her heart beating again, but we won’t know if there has been any brain damage until she wakes up.”

Brain damage. The words echoed around in my head. “But she’s going to live?”

The doctor’s lips pursed. “The first twenty-four hours are crucial, but we’re optimistic.”

I nodded my head slowly, having gone completely numb. The nurse took a step towards me. “I can take you up to her room if you’d like.”

“Yes. Please.”

Ford thumped my back. “I’m going to fill everyone in.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t think I had it in me to repeat those words. I silently followed the nurse down the hall and to a bank of elevators. She didn’t try and make idle chitchat as the elevator took us up five floors. I appreciated it. She led me down another hall and into a ward that was oval in shape. Individual rooms surrounded what appeared to be a nurses’ station. It was clear that there were more nurses to patients here than on a regular floor.

The nurse moved towards a corner room and then paused. “She’s going to look a little rough, but she’s breathing on her own, and that’s a great sign. Go on in.”

“Thank you.” I moved around her and through the door that was propped open. As soon as I caught sight of Caelyn, I froze. She was pale. Almost stark-white. And her face seemed swollen as if she’d been battered. A bruise bloomed across her cheek. I could only imagine what the rest of her body looked like.

This woman that was so full of life was far too still. I hated everything about it. I forced myself to step closer, one foot in front of the other as if they were weighed down with cement blocks. By the time I reached the bed, my breathing was labored, and my chest was so tight I thought I might be having a heart attack.

I lowered myself into the chair beside her bed. “Caelyn.” Her name was a prayer. A plea for her to return to me. I slipped one hand under hers, placing the other on top, careful not to disrupt the oxygen monitor. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. Not until you wake up.”