Ana pointed a shaking finger at the blood soaking his shirt.
"You promise to come back to my clinic and finish the full urology exam."
The ER director hopped from foot to foot, his face pale.
"Dr. West, are you insane? Do not provoke him!"
The lead agent stepped forward, reaching out to physically drag Ana to the chair.
Auguste threw his arm out, blocking the agent's path.
He stared into Ana's eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily.
"Fine."
The word scraped out of his throat, heavy with dark authority.
Ana turned around and walked straight to the rapid blood-draw chair.
She rolled up her sleeve, exposing the pale skin of her inner arm.
A nurse rushed over, her hands trembling so badly she dropped the alcohol wipe.
She couldn't find the vein.
Ana snatched the rubber tourniquet from the nurse's hands.
She wrapped it tightly around her own bicep, tapping her skin to make the vein pop.
She grabbed the thick needle and shoved it into her own arm.
Dark red blood rushed through the clear plastic tube.
Auguste stood by the chair, watching the blood fill the bag.
The rigid tension in his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch.
The first 400cc bag filled up quickly.
The nurse snatched it and hooked it directly into Leo's IV line.
Ana watched her own blood flow into the little boy's body.
A sharp, hollow ache bloomed behind her ribs, making her throat tight.
The frantic beeping of the monitor slowed down.
Leo's blood pressure started to climb.
The ER director wiped his forehead with a bloody glove.
"He's out of hypovolemic shock."
Ana let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"He lost too much," the nurse whispered. "We need more."
"Change the bag," Ana ordered without hesitating. "Keep drawing."
Auguste frowned, his eyes dropping to Ana's lips.
They were turning a sickly shade of blue.
Halfway through the second bag, the room started to spin.
A loud buzzing noise filled Ana's head, drowning out the medical machines.
The lead agent stepped forward, pressing two fingers to his earpiece before leaning close to Auguste's ear. He whispered something completely inaudible, his face a mask of grim urgency. Ana's heart skipped a beat. The sheer intensity of their silent exchange, the absolute secrecy, echoed ominously in her dizzy brain.
The nurse saw Ana's eyes roll back and immediately yanked the needle out, pressing a cotton swab hard against the puncture wound.
Ana tried to stand up to check on Leo.
Her knees buckled.
She pitched forward, expecting her face to smash into the cold tile floor.
Two strong arms caught her mid-air.
Ana's cheek slammed against Auguste's hard chest.
Her nose filled with the sharp scent of cedarwood and fresh blood.
Auguste scooped her up into his arms.
His movements were stiff, but his grip was iron-clad.
"Put me down," Ana mumbled, her voice sounding like a weak whisper. "I need to go to the breakroom."
"Prep the VIP suite on the top floor," Auguste ordered the director, his tone absolute ice.
The agents moved forward, shoving doctors and nurses out of the way.
The world faded to black as Auguste carried her into the private elevator.
