The car screeched to a halt under the hospital's parking lot, headlights splashed over the white-tiled entrance.
Before the engine even fully cut off, Caius stepped out. He didn't slam the door or shout for help—he didn't have to.
He opened the back door and bent down, carefully gathering Alex from Heather's trembling arms.
She hesitated—just for a second—but then reality hit, and she scrambled out behind him.
Her heel hit the curb awkwardly, and a sharp jolt radiated through her twisted ankle. She hissed in pain but didn't stop.
She limped forward, ignoring the surge of heat climbing up her calf, ignoring everything except her child.
"Alex—!" she called as nurses inside spotted them and rushed forward.
"Pediatric code coming through!" one of them yelled.
Caius strode forward without a word, his long coat sweeping behind him, the boy limp in his arms.
He didn't even look down—his focus was locked on the ER doors opening before him.
