intrepidity

Chapter 44

And Aiden knew better than anyone—failure was not an option.

-

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. The roads blurred by the rain that had started to fall heavily as the world around them seemed to close in. Aurora sat between Atlas and Antonio in the backseat, her small form shaking, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She said nothing. She couldn't. It felt like the air was being sucked from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath, but every time she tried to ask, to beg for something to hold onto, her words caught in her throat.

Marcus was supposed to be invincible. He was supposed to be one of the strongest of them all. She had never seen him vulnerable, never seen him weak. So why did it feel like everything was slipping away from her now?

When they finally arrived, the cold, sterile smell of the hospital hit them first. The flickering lights above seemed to hum with a quiet dread, as if the very walls knew what was happening inside. The brothers stormed into the building, their pace quick, their urgency palpable.

Aiden led the way, moving with a purpose, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. His eyes were locked on the surgical room door, the one that stood between them and Marcus. The men at the front desk tried to stop them, but no one dared to argue with Aiden.

"We're family," Aiden said, his voice low and sharp, sending a clear message. The staff stepped aside without a word. There were no questions.

The waiting room was suffocating. The air was thick with anxiety, the kind that clung to everything. Elias and Roman took up positions at the far side of the room, their usual calm shattered, their eyes flicking toward the hallway every time a nurse or doctor passed by. Alec was pacing, his mind too frantic to stay still, his hand running through his hair every few seconds. The tension was unbearable.

Roman had been the only one to approach her, the only one who had managed to bridge the distance between them. His voice was low, trying to offer comfort, but nothing he said reached her. It was hollow, just words spinning in the empty space between them. He didn't know what to say, none of them did. How could they? How could anyone offer comfort when the world felt like it was falling apart around them?

Elias had been the most withdrawn, his silence weighing heavily in the room. His usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be found. He stood at the far end of the room, eyes glued to the door, his jaw tight as if he was holding back a storm. 

Every now and then, he would glance at Aurora, but there was a distance in his gaze, a quiet, unspoken anguish that mirrored her own. He couldn't bring himself to approach her. What was there to say? 

Atlas and Antoni had taken a seat side by side, their faces pale and drawn. Antonio, the quieter of the two, had his hands tightly clasped in his lap, his eyes darting nervously around the room, unable to find a place to rest. 

Atlas, on the other hand, was fidgeting, his knee bouncing rapidly, the tension radiating off him in waves. He kept glancing at Aurora, his anger and frustration manifesting as unease. He wanted to break down, to shout, to do something—anything—but he knew it wouldn't help. Nothing could fix this. 

Alec had been pacing too, but it wasn't like the rest of them. He was trying to find something to do, a way to make the waiting bearable, but nothing worked. His eyes flickered between Aurora and the surgical room doors. 

Every time a nurse or doctor walked by, his gaze snapped toward them, hoping for news, praying for any sign of life. But each time, the door remained closed, the silence growing heavier. Alec's hand tugged at his hair in frustration. His voice cracked when he spoke, a strained breath escaping him.