Page 120 of Clinically Bewitched
“The universe tests everyone, Julien. Especially when they’re happy.”
I’d dismissed it as more spiritual nonsense.
I’d been wrong.
The elevator was taking too long.
I turned and ran for the stairs instead, taking them two at a time, my heart pounding, my breath coming in sharp gasps that had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the cold terror spreading through my chest.
She’s fine.
She has to be fine.
She’s Athena. She’s chaos incarnate. She’s indestructible.
But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn’t true.
She was human. Fragile. Mortal.
Just like everyone else. Just like every patient I’d ever lost.
No!
I burst through the stairwell door on the ground floor and ran toward the ER, my surgical scrubs still on, my hands still smelling of antiseptic, my mind still trying to process what Hayden had said.
Twenty minutes ago.
She was brought in twenty minutes ago.
Why hadn’t anyone told me sooner?
Why didn’t I feel it?
I rounded the corner and saw the ER entrance ahead. Saw Nathan standing outside one of the trauma bays, his expression grim. Saw Quinton next to him, talking rapidly into a phone. Saw Fitz through the window, his hands moving with practiced efficiency over someone on the gurney.
Someone with dark hair.
Someone small.
Someone…
Athena.
I ran faster.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Julien
The second Nathan saw me, he walked over.
I could read his face immediately. Years of working together meant I knew every micro-expression, every subtle shift in his features. The slight tightening around his eyes. The way his jaw set. The careful neutrality he adopted when delivering bad news to families.
The news wasn’t good.
“Julien—” he started.
“What happened?” My voice came out too sharp, too loud. “What happened to her?”
