The emergency room was a world of brutal, fluorescent light and controlled chaos. For Alex Hale, it was a descent into a special, sanitized hell. He stood, paralyzed, just inside the trauma bay curtain, watching a swarm of blue-gowned figures work over Lara's small, frighteningly still form on the gurney. Monitors beeped with frantic, discordant rhythms. Tubes were inserted, bags of fluids hung, voices called out numbers he didn't understand.
"BP is 80 over 40 and dropping!"




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