Chapter 27 - THE CRITICAL HOURS
The waiting room of Walter Reed National Military Medical Center was dead silent except for the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.
Julian sat on a plastic chair, his hands covered in dried blood, staring blankly at the floor.
Hours passed like centuries as surgeons worked behind the double red doors of the intensive care unit.
Marcus Senior walked over, placing a warm paper cup of coffee into Julian's hands.
"The bullet missed her heart by less than an inch," Marcus Senior said softly, sitting beside him.
"This is my fault," Julian whispered, his voice broken. "She kept taking bullets meant for me."
"She didn't do it because she was ordered to, Julian," Marcus Senior said, looking at him intently. "She did it because she loves you."
Julian closed his eyes, remembering every smile, every sharp glance, and every quiet moment they had shared over the harrowing months.
The surgical doors finally swung open, and a lead surgeon stepped out, pulling off his surgical mask.
Julian jumped to his feet instantly. "How is she?"
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"She survived the surgery, Mr. Vance," the doctor announced, smiling gently. "She's critical, but she's a fighter."
Julian let out a long, shaky breath, sinking back into his chair as relief washed over him like a warm wave.
