"It's nothing. If it weren't for those two fingers, she never would have believed me so easily. For you and our boy, any price is worth paying."
The rest of their words blurred into static.
A deafening roar filled my skull.
I lay frozen on the hospital bed, rigid as if lightning had split me open.
Eight years ago, in that pileup on the highway, Darrell had crawled through the wreckage to pull me free. He'd lost two fingers saving my life. That was why I fell in love with him.
But the crash itself had been a setup.
Cold sweat broke across my spine.
The sharp buzz of my phone cut through the haze. A message from that number.
We've landed at the capital's civilian airport. Two hours out.
I stared at the screen, and some small measure of calm returned. They were ahead of schedule. Much faster than planned.
I had barely finished typing my reply when Darrell burst through the door with the unfamiliar doctor in tow, panic carved across his face.
"Beverly."
He rushed to my side and seized my hand. His eyes were wide with alarm.
"Dr. Finch reviewed your scans. The baby's condition might be deteriorating. We need to move your surgery up."