With a loud thud, she collapsed onto the floor.
I stumbled back instinctively, shock surging through me, my legs weakening as the scene unfolded in front of me.
My heart pounded violently.
My thumb found the pulse at my inner wrist. It was racing.
Footsteps thundered from the hallway.
"Celeste!"
Dominic's voice echoed sharply as he rushed into the room.
His eyes landed on her instantly. On her trembling, convulsing body.
Panic overtook his expression.
"Celeste! Wake up! Celeste!"
He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to lift her, his voice breaking through the tension.
Then he turned to me.
His gaze was sharp, accusing.
"What did you do?!"
Before I could answer, the clinic director arrived, his face pale, sweat forming along his temples as he quickly assessed the situation. He knelt down, checking Celeste's condition with practiced efficiency. His expression darkened.
"The signora's vitals are unstable," he said urgently. "She's suffocating. If we don't act fast, we'll lose the child."
The words hit like a hammer.
His next sentence came even faster.
"We need to deconstruct the subject now to determine the survival potential."
Silence fell.
Heavy. Suffocating.