The few seconds Serena spent in front of the lab door, waiting for Marlowe to open up, felt like the longest she had ever waited in her entire life.
Every breath she took echoed in her ears like the ticking of a slow clock, and every beat of her heart was thunderous with worry and dread. She stood frozen, her hand halfway to the knob, uncertain whether she should knock again or wait in agonizing silence.
Then, finally, the door swung open, and she stepped inside without saying a word to Marlowe.
Her legs carried her automatically forward, propelled by urgency, concern, and the unmistakable tug of instinct. The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mixing unpleasantly with the underlying metallic tang of blood.
Serena's eyes moved towards the bed instantly, her breath catching. She saw Lucian lying on it, unconscious. Her heart dropped, and she moved towards the bed without hesitation, the rest of the room and its contents fading into a blur.
