One too Many

Chapter 49

Samara

The hospital ceiling tiles had exactly forty-seven water stains, ranging from small coffee-colored spots to larger amber blotches that looked like abstract art. I'd counted them three times now, anything to distract myself from the constant beeping of machines and the steady ache that had taken up permanent residence in my chest.

This private room in my hospital has always been reserved for me, it was sterile and cold despite the warm lighting, all gleaming surfaces and medical equipment that hummed and clicked with mechanical precision. Through the reinforced windows, I could see the city sprawling below us, afternoon shadows growing longer as the day wore on.

But mostly, I tried not to think about how much worse I felt now than when Oliver had made the panicked decision to bring me here.

"Your troponin levels are through the roof," Elena said softly, reviewing the latest lab results on her tablet. Elena had been my colleague for years, one of the few people I trusted implicitly with both my medical care and my safety. "And your ejection fraction... Samara, we're looking at end-stage heart failure."

The words hung in the air between us like a death sentence, even though I'd known this day was coming for years. Hearing it stated so clinically by someone whose shared the same degree as me and whose medical opinion I respected made it feel suddenly, terrifyingly real.

"How long?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Elena's dark eyes were gentle but unflinching. "Without intervention? Days. Maybe a week if we can stabilize you temporarily."

"And with intervention?"

"Immediate heart transplant. We've already put you at the top of the list, but finding a compatible donor..." She shook her head. "We both know how rare your blood type is, combined with your tissue markers. It could be hours, or it could be months."

"Which I don't have."

"Which you don't have," she confirmed quietly.

Cale had left to bring me some 'good quality water' because he thought the hospital water had a weird taste and Oliver was pacing by the window, his hands buried in his hair, looking like he'd aged a decade in the few hours since we'd arrived. "There has to be something else we can do. Mechanical support, medications—"

"We're already doing everything we can," Toma interrupted gently. He'd taken one look at my scans and immediately understood the gravity of the situation. "The ventricular assist device is helping, but it's a bridge, not a solution. And her body is rejecting the current medication protocol."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of their words settle over me like a shroud. The VAD they'd implanted was keeping me alive, but I could feel its mechanical rhythm in my chest, alien and wrong. Every breath was an effort, every heartbeat a conscious choice my body was increasingly reluctant to make.

Sometimes I hate my medical knowledge because I know exactly what is wrong with me on a scary level and I don't have the power to stop it.

The sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway caught my attention, followed by familiar voices raised in urgent conversation. My heart, what was left of it, jumped as I recognized the cadence of their words, even muffled by the door.

They were back.

The door burst open, and suddenly the sterile room was filled with the overwhelming presence of my family. Dominic was first through the door, his eyes immediately scanning me from head to toe, cataloguing every wire, every machine, every sign of my deteriorating condition. Ian was right behind him, his face pale with barely controlled panic. The twins flanked the doorway like sentries, while Asher moved directly to my bedside, his hands hovering uncertainly as if he wanted to touch me but was afraid I might break.