Chapter 4 - THE EMERGENCY WARDThe trauma wing of St. Catherine’s smelled of antiseptic, bleach, and old panic.
Marcus led us down the linoleum-floored corridor straight toward Trauma Bay 3, where two armed guards wearing Blackwell-Davis insignia stood outside the double doors.
“Status?” Luca demanded as we approached.
“Surgeons are still inside, Boss,” one of the guards said, snapping to attention. “He coded once on the table, but they brought him back. He has a severe concussion and fractured ribs from being clipped by the vehicle, but his vitals are stabilizing.”
I felt my knees buckle. Luca caught me by the elbow, guiding me gently onto a plastic waiting room chair.
“He’s going to make it, Rachel,” Luca said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Daniel is a fighter. You both are.”
Just then, the heavy double doors of the trauma bay swung open, and an exhausted surgeon in blue scrubs stepped out, wiping his forehead with a paper towel.
“Family of Daniel Bennett?” the doctor asked, scanning the hallway.
“I'm his wife,” I cried out, rushing forward, Luca right behind me. “Is he—is he going to be okay?”
“He’s stable for the moment, Mrs. Bennett,” the doctor said reassuringly. “He suffered a severe concussion and cracked ribs when he was struck, but he regained consciousness briefly before being sedated for stitches. He's asking for you... and for Mr. Moretti.”
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Luca stepped forward. “Can we see him?”
“Just for a few minutes. But keep it brief; he needs absolute quiet.”
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