The next morning, the drive to the hospital was a blur. Caroline's mind was numb, stuck on a loop of Preston's "good girl" and her mother's triumphant smile. She felt like a puppet, her strings being pulled by everyone around her.
When she walked into the hospital, her phone buzzed. A text from Brenna.
More suits today. ICU is locked down tight. Be careful.
Caroline sighed and headed for the elevator. The ICU wing was even more tense than the day before. The guards at the end of the hall were different-bigger, meaner, carrying heavier weaponry. They checked her badge three times before letting her through.
She pushed open the door to Room 3 and stopped.
Dr. Simon Adler, the attending physician, was standing by the bed, whispering urgently with Jarrod Romero.
Romero was in the same combat uniform, but today he looked even more on edge. His hands were clasped behind his back, the knuckles white. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle was jumping in his cheek.
They both looked up as she entered.
Caroline froze in the doorway. The air in the room felt thick, charged with an unspoken tension. Dr. Adler looked nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Romero just looked dangerous.
"Nurse Thompson," Dr. Adler said, clearing his throat. "The Colonel was just reviewing the patient's progress."
Caroline nodded, not trusting her voice. She walked over to the monitors, keeping her eyes on the screens. She could feel Romero's gaze on her, heavy and assessing. It was the same feeling she had gotten in the hallway yesterday-like being caught in a searchlight.
"The medication schedule needs to be adjusted," Romero said, his voice low. "He's too sedated. I need him lucid by 1800 hours."
"Colonel, if we reduce the sedation, his pain levels will be-" Dr. Adler started.
"I am aware of the risks, Doctor," Romero cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Adjust the dosage. That is an order."
Dr. Adler swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
Romero turned and walked toward the door. As he passed Caroline, he stopped. He was close enough that she could smell him again-cedar, gunpowder, and something distinctly male. Her pulse skipped a beat.
He looked down at her. His gray eyes were unreadable, but there was an intensity in them that made her breath catch.
"Watch your back, Nurse," he said quietly. "The walls have ears."
Then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and Caroline let out a shaky breath.
What did that mean? She looked around the room, suddenly paranoid. The walls have ears? Was he warning her about something? Or someone?
She turned back to the bed. Lieutenant Petersen was watching her, his eyes clearer than they had been the night before.
"We all trust the Colonel," Petersen rasped, his voice weak. "He's... decisive. You just do your job, and he'll handle the rest. Please, be careful. This world... it isn't for civilians."
Caroline stared at him, confused, but Petersen had already closed his eyes, his breath evening out as sleep reclaimed him.
She stood there for a long moment, her mind racing. She had walked into the hospital today feeling trapped by her family, trapped by Preston. Now, standing in this room with a wounded soldier and a cryptic warning from a terrifying Colonel, she realized she might be trapped in something far more dangerous.
