POV: Silas

Grant sealed every hospital exit except the one Evelyn intended to use.

That was the problem with men who believed they knew their wives: they stopped checking whether the woman had changed.

At ten twelve, six officers occupied the main lobby. Two watched the ambulance bay. One stood beside the staff parking gate. Mercer stationed himself at the service elevator with a clipboard and the expression of a man pretending a crime had already occurred.

The laundry dock remained open.

Evelyn had noticed it from her first room because clean sheets arrived every morning at six and dirty ones left at ten thirty. Grant had visited her for nine years without learning where anything came from unless it served him.

"We could take them through now," Ronan said.

Silas watched the camera feed on Bishop's tablet. "Too easy."

"I enjoy easy. It gives me time for hobbies."

"Annoying law enforcement isn't a hobby."

"Then why am I naturally gifted?"

Evelyn sat in a wheelchair beside the recovery-room window, wearing borrowed scrubs beneath a hospital blanket. Sophie knelt behind her, carefully attaching adhesive stars to Silas's knuckles.

The first three covered old scars. The fourth covered nothing.

"This one is for the motorcycle," she explained.

"The motorcycle is in the repair shop."

"You hurt too."

Silas let her press the silver star into place.

His wolf had accepted blood, rank, and scars without complaint. It treated the sticker like a sacred mark.

Evelyn looked at his hand. "It suits you."

"Ronan will never let me live it down."

"I heard that," Ronan said.

"That was the intention."

Evelyn smiled. Brief. Tired. Real.

Then she turned back to the plan taped beneath the meal tray.

Three ambulances would leave within six minutes.

The first belonged to Pine Hollow Hospital and carried an empty bed beneath full trauma covers. Maeve would ride beside it wearing blood-stained scrubs from the emergency training supply.

The second belonged to a private company represented by Miriam. Its patient would be Ronan beneath oxygen tubing and enough bandages to conceal his face.

The third carried no patient at all. It would receive the largest escort: twelve Reapers, two marked county vehicles under Briar's request, and Silas riding in full view.

Grant would believe the most heavily guarded vehicle held Evelyn and Sophie.

"He'll choose the third," Evelyn said.

"Why?" Briar asked.

"Because he thinks Silas cannot bear to be away from me."

Silas met her eyes.

Grant was not wrong.

Evelyn saw the answer he did not speak. Color warmed her face before she looked down.

"He'll also expect you to hide them in the second ambulance," she continued. "It's what he would call clever. So he will search the second quickly, then focus on the third."

Ronan lifted the oxygen mask. "I feel undervalued as bait."

"You asked for the dramatic role," Maeve said.

"I expected dialogue."

"Patients don't usually perform monologues during covert evacuation."

"This institution crushes artists."

Silas crouched beside Evelyn's wheelchair and unfolded a soft armored vest across her knees.

"This goes under the scrubs."

She touched the reinforced panel. "Do all your hospital plans include body armor?"

"Only the relaxing ones."

Ronan pointed at him. "That was almost a joke. Everyone document the time."

Silas ignored him.

Evelyn studied the vest, then the route beneath the meal tray. "If Grant sees the armor, he'll know I expected violence. He'll use that to say I'm paranoid."

"If you don't wear it and he sends someone armed, his opinion becomes less important than your lungs."

Her eyes rose to his.

He had spoken too sharply.

"I'm not ordering you," he said. "I'm afraid. Those are not the same thing."

The room quieted.

Evelyn ran her fingers along the edge of the panel. "Grant never admitted fear. He called it judgment and made everyone obey it."

"My judgment is that you should wear it. My authority is none."

"And if I say no?"

"I find another way to reduce the risk."

"While arguing?"

"Extensively."

"Good." She lifted both arms. "Help me put it on."

Silas stopped.

The vest had to pass around her ribs and beneath the hospital gown. Too close to her stitches. Too close to skin Grant had taught her to guard.

"Maeve can do it."

"I asked you."

His wolf surged at the permission. Silas forced it still.

He explained every movement before making it. His hand behind her shoulder. The panel across her stomach. The side strap drawn near her waist but not tightened until she nodded.