The double doors of Operating Room 3 swung shut behind Devon with a soft hiss, sealing him into a world of sterile precision and controlled chaos. The surgical suite was a crucible of light and sound, blinding overhead lamps cast a stark, unforgiving glow over the operating table, their beams slicing through the haze of antiseptic and blood. The rhythmic beeps of failing monitors clashed with the frantic rustle of blue surgical drapes, the low hum of the ventilator, and the muted gasps of a team teetering on the edge of despair.
Crimson-soaked gauze littered the floor, and the air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood, undercut by the sharp bite of iodine and the faint chemical whiff of sterile gloves.
