Meanwhile, Alex lay motionless on the hospital bed, an oxygen tube fitted carefully beneath his nose. The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the ward.
Gabe sat at the edge of the bed, his fingers tightly wrapped around Alex's hand as though afraid that loosening his grip would make him disappear. His thumb brushed gently over Alex's knuckles, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful.
Behind him, Fred and Damien stood side by side. Neither of them spoke. Sadness and restrained tension were clearly written across their faces.
"The doctor said it isn't critical," Gabe murmured under his breath, his voice trembling despite his effort to stay composed. "The bullet only hit his hand. Yes, he lost a lot of blood, but they managed to control it in time… and since he can't receive blood from anyone else…" His voice cracked slightly. "If he's out of danger, then why isn't he opening his eyes?"
His grip on Alex's hand tightened unconsciously.
