Chapter 27 - The Price of Blood
The General didn't look at the soldiers. He didn't look at the news helicopters circling like vultures overhead. His eyes locked onto Nathan, then slowly shifted to me. For the first time in my life, I saw the unyielding facade of the most powerful military commander in the country crack. There was grief in his eyes. There was shame.
"Nathan," the General whispered, stepping forward, his hands reaching out to steady his son before Nathan could collapse onto the cold platform tiles.
"Don't touch me, Father," Nathan said, his voice flat, devoid of warmth, though his knees buckled under the strain. He refused the General's support, leaning entirely on my shoulder instead. "Where were your soldiers when Carson sent hit squads into the hospital? Where were you when Thorne was selling our coordinates to foreign cartels?"
The General’s face twitched, but he took the blow without flinching. "Carson is in custody. The Provost Marshal arrested him forty minutes ago trying to board a private jet at Andrews Air Force Base. He will face a general court-martial for treason."
"And you?" I asked, stepping forward, my voice ringing across the silent station platform. "Are you going to pretend you didn't know what Carson was doing? That you didn't look the other way because he carried your golden name, while you left Nathan to rot in a wheelchair?"
General Vance looked at me, the combat nurse his family had mocked and degraded at the gala just days ago. A heavy silence hung in the air.
"I was blind, Mera," the General admitted, his voice rough, stripped of all political polish. "I thought I was protecting the legacy of this family. Instead, I sheltered a traitor and condemned my own blood."
He turned to his lead medic. "Get Captain Vance to Walter Reed immediately under armed escort. Maximum security. If so much as a fly enters his room without my personal clearance, shoot it."
"No," Nathan said, gripping my hand tightly, his pulse fluttering weakly under my fingers. "She stays with me. She handles my triage. I don't trust your military surgeons, Father. I only trust her."
The General nodded once, a gesture of absolute defeat and respect. "Whatever you need, Captain. Take them."
Within twenty minutes, we were in the back of an armored ambulance, tearing through the gridlocked streets of Washington with a six-vehicle tactical escort. Inside the trauma bay, I immediately went to work. I stripped away the soaked fabric, setting up a peripheral line, pushing fluids and broad-spectrum antibiotics to fight off the sewer contamination.
Nathan lay on the gurney, his face ashen, watching me with an intensity that made the chaos outside fade into white noise.
"You're a hell of a nurse, Mera Stanton," he murmured, his fingers weakly threading through mine.
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"I told you at that ridiculous ball," I whispered, blinking back the tears of exhaustion that finally threatened to spill over. "I don't leave my patients behind."
"You did more than keep me alive," he said, coughing softly, his vitals finally stabilizing on the monitor. "You gave me a reason to fight back."
