There was a slight pause from everyone standing in the hallway before Dr.Maxwell cleared his throat.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes," I nodded. "I’m Rh-null."
"Can you give a sample?" Dr. Maxwell asked again.
"Very well then. We need to confirm now. Will you come with me to the lab?"
"Yes," I nodded again.
Kael reached for my hand, spinning me round to face him. "Are you fine? Do you want to do this? You don’t have to let anyone pressure you into doing what you don’t want to do."
Despite the presence of Alpha Terry and Dr. Maxwell, Kael didn’t bother to lower his voice, and for a heartbeat, I thought I saw Alpha Terry roll his eyes in exasperation. I smiled fondly, touching Kael’s arm.
"I want to do this. It’s Rhett."
Kael nodded and turned to Dr. Maxwell, who was watching the entire display with an arch on his brow. "Doesn’t he need to sign a consent form first?"
"How old are you, Eamon?" Dr. Maxwell asked, staring at me.
"I’m 17, but I’ll be 18 two months from now."
"The paperwork for someone like him below, 18 takes longer than an hour, Kael. I know I swore an oath, and I don’t care if I’ll be sued for medical malpractice later on, but the only thing we can do right now is screen his blood to check for compatibility and to make sure he’s healthy enough. Rhett doesn’t have a lot of time, please."
"Kael," I tugged at his shirt, and he looked down at me. "Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. This is not the first time I’m doing this, and I really want to save, Rhett. Please!"
Kael sighed, then turned to Dr. Maxwell. "Fine!"
Together, I, Kael and Dr. Maxwell went down the corridor to the lab. Slater was not yet back, and Alpha Terry remained behind.
In the lab, I sat in a small chair as a nurse drew my blood. Maxwell took the sample to the lab techs and told us to wait for a few minutes.
A while later, he returned with a relieved expression on his face. "It matches. He’s a match."
"What will happen now?" Kael asked.
"We prep immediately. Since he doesn’t have much time, it would have to be a direct infusion."
"A direct infusion?" Kael arched a brow. "You want Eamon to go into the operating room, too?"
"It takes hours to draw a pint of blood, Kael. Rhett doesn’t have time. Considering we would also need to process the plasma and red cells, but we would monitor him and stop if we think he would be in danger."
When I heard I’d be going into the lab with Rhett, I began to panic. That means I would need to change into a hospital gown, and that might expose my real identity. Worse still, I might be sedated.
"Will I be sedated?" I asked.
"No," Dr. Maxwell replied quickly. "We need you conscious so we can monitor your responses and stop the procedure if you show any signs of distress, and it’s a blood transfusion, not a surgery."
I laughed nervously. "Of course, I know that. Do I also need to change out of my clothes? Where will the blood be drawn from?"
Dr. Maxwell looked at me with slight confusion. "Yes, you’d have to change into a surgical gown. It would be more sterile and easier to access—"
"No," I interrupted, a little too forceful than I’d intended, then forced an awkward smile. "My body isn’t the prettiest, and I have a lot of scars. I’m not confident enough to show it yet."
At least that part was genuine.
The excuse felt lame even to my ears, but Dr. Maxwell just nodded.
"So, just to confirm, you’d want to keep your clothes on?" Dr. Maxwell asked.
"Yes, please," I nodded.
"Okay, but you’ll need to wear a sterile coverall and be sanitised," he said. We’ll only leave your arms exposed. We can work around your comfort level."
"Yeah," I nodded, flashing him a smile. "Thank you so much."
As soon as that was settled, a nurse rolled in a wheelchair, and I settled into it, my hands gripping the armrests more tightly than necessary. As usual, I’d not considered the disadvantages and had just thrown myself in without thinking.
Kael came to me, kneeling in front of me, his dark eyes filled with concern. "If you start to feel funny, dizzy, nauseous, anything at all, let the doctor know immediately. And if they won’t do anything about it or listen to you, then remove the tube yourself and yell my name."
"I’m serious," he murmured. "Do exactly as I’ve told you. I’ll be waiting outside here for you."
Behind me, Dr. Maxwell let out an exasperated sigh. "Kael, this is not a butcher’s shop. We’re not going to kill him. We’re a team of professionals, and I’m not senseless enough to ignore warning signs—"
"You’re willing to commit malpractice, Dr. Maxwell," Kael snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Who’s to say you won’t ignore more warning signs in the name of saving Rhett?"
"C’mon, Kael," Dr. Maxwell sighed. "I already told you the paperwork for someone under 18 is not an easy process. It would require his guardian and a bunch of other things, and I would never put him in harm’s way."
"Make sure you don’t," Kael said coldly. "If anything happens to Eamon, you’ll pay for it."
With that warning hanging in the air, he rose to his feet, backing away from me as I was wheeled down the corridor, not before I gave him a fleeting smile. I’ve never seen someone as possessive of me as Kael was, and I loved it.
We stopped first at a sterile preparation room that was brightly lit, cold and with white walls. First, they put on a full-face mask and protective helmet that covered my head completely. The mask made breathing feel strange, adding to my growing anxiety. Then they began to spray disinfectant all over me.
After that, they removed my shoes and replaced them with surgical booties that had thick rubber soles. Two of the nurses helped me into a white full-body coverall, leaving out the sleeves. I was sprayed with additional disinfectant before we finally left the room.
From there, I was wheeled into the operating room, moving past Kael and Alpha Terry. There was still no sign of Slater.
When I entered the operating room, the first thing I saw was bloodied gauze and surgical instruments scattered on metal trays. Rhett lay motionless, his chest cut open with tubes snaked from the machines next to him.
A team of doctors and nurses surrounded him, speaking in their medical jargon and passing medical equipment to one another.
I forced my face away, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t see what they were doing to him. I was wheeled to the table next to Rhett. It was not so far, nor was it too close. They lifted me from the wheelchair and placed me on the narrow table.
Immediately, a nurse began wheeling monitoring equipment around me. Then one of the nurses tried to reach for my chest to attach the heart monitor leads. I pulled back instinctively.
"No, please," I shook my head. "Just draw the blood."
Dr. Maxwell looked up from Rhett’s table. "We need to monitor your vitals during the infusion to make sure you’re stable."
"You can attach anything you want anywhere else, but on my chest," I insisted. "We already talked about this, and you said you’d respect my wishes."
"I don’t understand you and Kael," he muttered with annoyance in his voice. Then he turned to the nurse. "Place it along the upper arm."
In the end, I placed all the monitoring extensions along my right arm: the heart rate monitor, pulse oximeter, and blood pressure cuff. Everything was clustered on my right arm.
On my left arm, they inserted a large IV catheter that connected to a clear tube leading directly to Rhett. The setup was surprisingly easy and not as painful as I imagined it would be.
I lay back on the narrow bed, trying to relax as the transfusion began.
The doctors resumed their work on Rhett. Occasionally, they would murmur to the nurses to bring them something, or someone would shout a status update.
My eyelids drooped, my body felt lighter, my fingers were slightly tingling, and the nurse next to me was watching the monitor so closely that it seemed like her life depended on it. I gritted my teeth, distracting myself with memories from my time in Crestborne so I wouldn’t doze off.
Thirty minutes into the transfusion, someone from Rhett’s table called out with excitement.
"His vitals are coming back up! Blood pressure is stabilising at 120 over 80, pulse is steady at 78 beats per minute, and the bleeding has stopped completely!"
A small cheer went up from the surgical team, and I found myself smiling. That should be a good sign.
But Dr. Maxwell cut through the excitement. "Don’t celebrate yet. Let’s focus on finishing the operation and making sure he comes back better than he came in before we declare victory."
"Yes, doc!" they all murmured uniformly and continued to work.
This time around, I could feel the energy in the operating room had shifted. The desperation I’d seen when I first came in had been replaced by peace.
Whatever damage the infection had caused, my body was giving Rhett’s body the resources it needed to fight back.
For the first time, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax for a bit. It seemed like Rhett might actually be okay.
I’d done it. I’d saved him.