Kira's POV
The hospital waiting room was cold and lonely, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry insects.
I sat in a plastic chair, still wearing my torn, blood-stained clothes, my hands shaking uncontrollably.
Damien had been in surgery for three hours.
Three hours of not knowing if he was alive or dead. Three hours of imagining the worst. Three hours of reliving that moment - the gunshot, the blood, the way he'd collapsed.
An officer had stayed with me, asking questions I could barely answer through my shock.
Yes, we'd been kidnapped. Yes, they'd discovered I was a woman. Yes, Damien had tried to protect me.
No, I didn't know how the police had found us so quickly.
Apparently, Damien's security team - another team I didn't know about - had a tracker embedded in his watch. The moment his vital signs indicated distress, they'd activated it and alerted local authorities.
If not for that tracker, we'd both be dead.
The surgery doors finally opened.
