Elena was almost unrecognizable beneath wires, blankets, blood, and the frantic motion of doctors trying to keep her alive.
She looked too small in the bed.
Too pale.
Her dark hair lay damp against her temples. An oxygen mask covered half her face. Her body shook with pain, and the monitors around her screamed in urgent, mechanical rhythm.
Victor had seen men die without flinching.
This nearly brought him to his knees.
“Mr. Kane?”
The nurse from the phone appeared at his side. She was older than she had sounded, gray-streaked hair pulled back tightly, eyes exhausted but sharp.
“Thank God you came. We need to prep you now.”
“What happened?”
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