Ana pointed a shaking finger at the blood soaking his shirt.

"You promise to come back to my clinic and finish the full urology exam."

The ER director hopped from foot to foot, his face pale.

"Dr. West, are you insane? Do not provoke him!"

The lead agent stepped forward, reaching out to physically drag Ana to the chair.

Auguste threw his arm out, blocking the agent's path.

He stared into Ana's eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"Fine."

The word scraped out of his throat, heavy with dark authority.

Ana turned around and walked straight to the rapid blood-draw chair.

She rolled up her sleeve, exposing the pale skin of her inner arm.

A nurse rushed over, her hands trembling so badly she dropped the alcohol wipe.

She couldn't find the vein.

Ana snatched the rubber tourniquet from the nurse's hands.

She wrapped it tightly around her own bicep, tapping her skin to make the vein pop.

She grabbed the thick needle and shoved it into her own arm.

Dark red blood rushed through the clear plastic tube.

Auguste stood by the chair, watching the blood fill the bag.

The rigid tension in his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch.

The first 400cc bag filled up quickly.

The nurse snatched it and hooked it directly into Leo's IV line.

Ana watched her own blood flow into the little boy's body.

A sharp, hollow ache bloomed behind her ribs, making her throat tight.

The frantic beeping of the monitor slowed down.

Leo's blood pressure started to climb.

The ER director wiped his forehead with a bloody glove.

"He's out of hypovolemic shock."

Ana let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"He lost too much," the nurse whispered. "We need more."

"Change the bag," Ana ordered without hesitating. "Keep drawing."

Auguste frowned, his eyes dropping to Ana's lips.

They were turning a sickly shade of blue.

Halfway through the second bag, the room started to spin.

A loud buzzing noise filled Ana's head, drowning out the medical machines.

The lead agent stepped forward, pressing two fingers to his earpiece before leaning close to Auguste's ear. He whispered something completely inaudible, his face a mask of grim urgency. Ana's heart skipped a beat. The sheer intensity of their silent exchange, the absolute secrecy, echoed ominously in her dizzy brain.

The nurse saw Ana's eyes roll back and immediately yanked the needle out, pressing a cotton swab hard against the puncture wound.

Ana tried to stand up to check on Leo.

Her knees buckled.

She pitched forward, expecting her face to smash into the cold tile floor.

Two strong arms caught her mid-air.

Ana's cheek slammed against Auguste's hard chest.

Her nose filled with the sharp scent of cedarwood and fresh blood.

Auguste scooped her up into his arms.

His movements were stiff, but his grip was iron-clad.

"Put me down," Ana mumbled, her voice sounding like a weak whisper. "I need to go to the breakroom."

"Prep the VIP suite on the top floor," Auguste ordered the director, his tone absolute ice.

The agents moved forward, shoving doctors and nurses out of the way.

The world faded to black as Auguste carried her into the private elevator.

Ana woke up on a massive California king bed.

A dull ache throbbed in the crook of her arm, where an IV drip of saline was attached.

She blinked, taking in the luxurious furniture of the top-floor VIP suite.

Every single window blind was pulled tightly shut, blocking out the sun.

She ripped the tape off her hand and pulled the IV needle out.

Her bare feet hit the thick carpet as she walked toward the door.

She grabbed the metal handle and twisted.

It didn't budge. The electronic lock clicked from the outside, trapping her inside the suite's master bedroom.

Low voices drifted through the heavy wood, filtering in from the adjoining private living area.

Ana pressed her ear flat against the door, holding her breath.

"Why was the motorcade route leaked?" Auguste's voice was a low, furious growl.

An older man answered. "It was a precision assassination, sir. Disguised as a car crash."

Ana slapped a hand over her mouth.

Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She was locked in a room with people involved in a deadly power struggle.

"We need to move him," the older man, Elwyn, said. "The hospital is compromised."

"No," Auguste snapped. "My son cannot be moved in this condition. We hold the perimeter."

Elwyn paused. "What about the female doctor inside? Her blood type is too coincidental. She could be a plant."

Silence stretched for two agonizing seconds.

"Run a full background check on her," Auguste ordered. "Dig up everything."

Ana's blood boiled.

She saved his son's life, and he was treating her like a terrorist.

She took a step back in anger, her heel catching the leg of a small side table.

A glass of water tipped over and fell.

It hit the thick carpet with a muffled, heavy thud.

The voices outside stopped instantly.

The silence was deafening.

The electronic lock beeped.

The door flew open, forcing Ana to stumble backward.

Auguste stood in the doorway, his eyes sharp enough to cut glass.

Elwyn stood behind him, his hand reaching inside his suit jacket for a weapon.

Ana forced her spine straight.

"You cannot illegally detain an American citizen!"

Auguste stepped into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.

He walked slowly toward her, backing her into the corner of the room.

He slammed his hand against the wall right next to her head, trapping her.

Ana was forced to tilt her head up.

His scent-dark, aggressive, and overwhelming-filled her lungs.

"If you breathe a single word of what you just heard, you will regret it," he whispered.

Ana bit her lower lip hard, tasting copper.

"I don't care about your mafia gang wars. Let me go back to my job."

Auguste's eyes widened for a fraction of a second at the word 'mafia'.

Then, a dark, cynical smile touched his lips.

He didn't correct her.

"Then you know exactly what kind of man you're dealing with. Behave."

The landline phone on the nightstand suddenly rang, shattering the intense tension between them.

Auguste stepped back, his chest heaving, and picked up the receiver.

His face changed.

He looked at Ana. "Leo is awake. He's asking for you."

Ana followed Auguste down the hallway.

Every agent they passed snapped to attention, their eyes fixed straight ahead.

Auguste pushed open the door to the Pediatric ICU.

A blood-curdling scream tore through the air, vibrating in Ana's teeth.

Leo was thrashing wildly on the hospital bed.

Two nurses were trying to hold his arms down, but the IV in his hand had already ripped loose, dripping blood onto the sheets.

Auguste rushed forward, reaching out to grab his son.

Leo shrieked, batting his father's hands away with pure terror in his eyes.

"Don't touch me!"

The boy was drowning in a severe PTSD flashback.

Ana's medical instincts kicked in, overriding her fear of the men in the room.

She shoved past a nurse and stepped right up to the bed.

She placed both of her hands firmly on Leo's tear-soaked cheeks.

"Leo. Look at me. You are safe." Her voice was steady, warm, and absolute.

Leo's screams hitched in his throat.

He opened his swollen, red eyes and stared at her.

For three seconds, the room was completely still.

Then, Leo's tiny hands shot out, his fingers twisting into the fabric of Ana's white coat.

He buried his face into her chest and sobbed.

"Mommy!"

Ana's entire body went rigid.

Her hands hovered in the air, paralyzed.

She looked up, her eyes wide with shock, straight into Auguste's face.

Auguste's pupils constricted to pinpricks.

His face was a mask of complex, dark emotions.

Ana tried to gently peel the boy's fingers off her coat.

"Sweetheart, I'm just the doctor who gave you blood-"

The moment she pulled back, Leo let out a piercing shriek.

The heart monitor started blaring again.

Leo slammed the back of his head against the pillow, trying to hurt himself.

"Stop!" the ER director yelled. "If his blood pressure spikes, his internal sutures will rupture!"

Auguste grabbed Ana's wrist, his grip bruising.

"Hold him," he ordered through gritted teeth. "Play along."

Ana swallowed the lump in her throat and wrapped her arms tightly around the boy.

She rubbed his back, her voice shaking.

"Mommy is here. I'm not going anywhere."

The magic word worked instantly.

Leo stopped thrashing and wrapped his arms around her neck in a death grip.

The alarms in the room silenced.

Auguste stood at the foot of the bed, watching his son cling to a stranger.

His eyes were dark pools of ink.

Ana shifted her weight, trying to find a comfortable angle.

Leo whimpered in his sleep, his grip tightening.

Ana kicked off her shoes and awkwardly climbed onto the narrow hospital bed.

She leaned back against the headboard, letting Leo rest his full weight on her chest.

His breathing finally slowed into a deep sleep.

After twenty minutes, Ana's left arm went completely numb.

"Can you help me lay him flat?" she whispered to Auguste.

Auguste reached out, his large hand hovering over his son's back.

Leo let out a distressed whine in his sleep.

Auguste's hand froze.

He slowly pulled his arm back and looked at Ana with cold indifference.

"Stay exactly where you are."

Ana glared at him, her jaw tight. "Am I supposed to be a human mattress forever?"