Chapter 291

In the OR, the chaos intensified. Surgeons and nurses moved around Roshanay like a well-oiled machine, their hands working frantically to repair the damage that had been done to her body. The sterile smell of antiseptic mixed with the metallic tang of blood. The lights overhead were blinding, their harsh glare making everything feel unreal, like a scene from a nightmare that Roshanay couldn’t wake up from.

Roshanay’s body was a broken vessel. The bullet that had torn through her back had nicked her spine, causing a degree of paralysis that would require extensive rehabilitation—if she survived. Her right lung had partially collapsed, and her liver had been lacerated. And through it all, the tiny heartbeat of her unborn child pulsed, a desperate rhythm that refused to be silenced.

“Her blood pressure is falling again,” one of the nurses announced, her voice strained. “She’s crashing.”

“Start CPR. And get the paddles ready.”

The chaos of the OR continued, but R