The Order: Hit and Run by Emma Cole Page 0,4

ready to crawl out of my own skin. It's been thirty minutes of hell and staff too busy to get an update on the phone. I crash in through the doors, immediately slowing my steps when the desk attendant glances up sharply, and try to calm myself as I ask for Cora. For whatever reason, the guy and his posse follow me in, but I really don’t care. They’d tried to introduce themselves, but I hadn’t paid attention after the one I’d been talking to said his name was Drake.

The lady looks up Cora's information, giving me a small, polite smile as she delivers the news. “Sir, your wife is already in surgery. If you’ll go down this hall and take a left, then the elevator to the third floor, you can follow the signs into waiting room B. I’ll let the nurses’ station know to expect you.” I thank the woman and begin to follow the directions only to find I’m still being followed.

“Do you mind? I’m grateful for the ride, but anything further isn’t necessary.” Why are they still here?

“Please, we’d like to make sure Cora is okay and to offer any support we can.” His eyes are tight at the corners, and I again feel like there’s more to it than that.

Not wanting to waste the time arguing, I spit out, “Fine” and keep going. It’s only minutes to get to the waiting area, and I find an employee at the desk to inquire further about Cora.

“I’ve already sent word to the operating room for an update. Please have a seat, and someone should be out shortly,” the man says.

“Thank you.” I move the seating area and find a chair close to the door I imagine someone will come out of when there's news, dropping my bag and Cora’s oversized purse onto the one next to it. The guys follow me in but move to take seats on the far side of the waiting area.

My head thumps back against the wall, and as I'm closing my eyes to settle in for a long night, an envelope sticking out of Cora's purse snags my attention. The corner of it has the courthouse stamp on it, and I pull it out to find a copy of our marriage certificate. Bowing my head, I wipe at a stray tear that escapes before it can fall on the printed paper. There’s already a smudge from my fingers, and I carefully fold it back up before tucking it into the envelope and redepositing it in Cora’s purse.

***

I’m not sure how long I wait until the door opens and a green scrub-wearing individual comes out, but it feels like an eternity.

“Family of Cordelia Malbec?” the woman questions the room.

“Shultz, it’s Cordelia Shultz. We were just married. I’m her husband,” I correct her.

The woman gives a short nod at the information. “Mr. Shultz, I’m one of the nurses on the surgery team— I'm not going to sugarcoat it; your wife is in critical condition. The collision caused internal injuries, and the placenta separated fully from her uterus. The fetus was stillborn by the time a cesarean was performed.” She pauses, letting me absorb the news as I feel the blood drain from my face. I’d already been sure she was gone at the accident site, but I'd held out a small bit of hope that I was wrong.

“It’s very likely that even with immediate delivery the result would have been the same. At this point the surgeon is trying to stop the bleeding from the tear. Several of her ribs were broken by the seat belt, and there is deep bruising around the entire torso. Her right leg is fractured, most likely from the vehicle buckling as I believe it was her door that was initially hit?” I nod yes, and the woman continues with her seemingly never-ending list of injuries. “One of her kidneys is badly bruised and swollen and will need to be monitored closely— right now we're hopeful it will heal. The most urgent issue is the bleeding from her uterus; at this time, the doctor has managed to slow it greatly, but if he can’t get it under control, he’ll have to perform a hysterectomy.” The woman stays stoic, but a hint of sympathy lurks in her gaze.

“No," I protest, "she wants kids. Not unless he has to.” The nurse holds up her hand to stall me.

“The surgeon is doing everything he can to avoid it, but she’s had two