Chapter 11 - The Harbor ClinicThe warehouse district was dark, but the private clinic inside Vance Shipping Terminal Three was ablaze with emergency halogen floodlights. Dr. Thorne and two pediatric trauma nurses had arrived only minutes earlier via heavy coast guard transport.
The Rover skidded to a halt inside the dry loading bay. Julian kicked the door open, lifted Elena out before the vehicle had fully settled, and ran with her straight through the sterilized swinging doors into the triage room.
"She's fully dilated!" a nurse called out the moment Elena was placed on the gurney. "Fetal distress detected—cord presentation is abnormal! We need to deliver immediately!"
The sterile room erupted into controlled chaos. Masks were snapped into place, surgical trays rattled, and alarms beeped rhythmically.
Elena was frantic, her eyes wild with panic as strange hands moved over her. "Julian! Don't leave me! Please don't leave me!"
Julian stepped forward, but Dr. Thorne put up a gloved hand. "Julian, you're not sterile—"
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Julian shoved past him with an authoritative ferocity that left no room for debate. He grabbed a sterile gown and gloves from the counter, pulling them on in three practiced motions. He stepped to the head of the bed, sliding his hands firmly into Elena's.
"I am right here," Julian commanded, his voice dropping into that deep, immovable timber that anchored her swirling world. "I am not leaving this room, Elena. Look at me. Breathe with me. Push!"
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