"…Kidding"
Kael didn't reply, his smirk fading into something quieter, unreadable.
The elevator chimed, announcing the fourth basement level.
Clara's focus snapped back, her voice cool and professional again.
"She's stable, but just barely. We'll see if she holds up through surgery."
They wheeled Kitty off the lift and through a double-reinforced door into a sealed surgical bay, its walls devoid of cameras or windows—a room built for secrets.
Clara gestured for Kael to wait outside, her expression leaving no room for argument.
The wait stretched into nearly an hour.
Kael sat on a metal bench in the hallway, elbows on his knees, staring at the cracked linoleum floor.
The fluorescent lights buzzed above, a static lullaby that did little to quiet his thoughts.
The waiting area was empty, no nurses, no patients—just him, the hum of the hospital, and the blood caked under his nails, drying to a dull rust.
Finally, the doors hissed open.
