The world reduced to a single, terrible rhythm: the flatline tone of Emily's heart monitor.
Alexander had seen death before—his father's slow decline, his mother's supposed fall, countless business rivals he'd destroyed professionally if not literally. But nothing, nothing had prepared him for the sound of his wife's heart stopping while he stood three feet away, still holding their dying daughter, unable to save either of them.
"Emily!" Her name tore from his throat as Dr. Yun and her team swarmed the operating table.
"Get him out," Dr. Yun snapped, her hands already moving with desperate efficiency. "Clear the room. We need space to work."
"I'm not leaving—"
"You are." Marcus appeared from nowhere, his face pale, the Blood Oath clearly making him feel Emily's distress through whatever mystical connection bound them. "Sir, they need room. Let them work."
