The minutes ticked by until finally, with a loud thud, the emergency room doors swung open.
Beauty was the first to leap to her feet, rushing forward with worry etched across her face.
"Doctor, how is Dyson?"
The doctor pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"He's out of danger," he said quietly.
"Luckily, the knife didn't strike his heart.
If it had, even a minute later it would have been too late."
At those words, both Beauty and Dyson's mlther exhaled deeply, as if a weight had been lifted from their chests.
"Can I see him now?"
"Yes, but don't stay too long.
The anesthesia hasn't worn off yet—he needs rest."
Dyson's mother thanked the doctor profusely before pushing open the door to the ICU and stepping inside.
Just as Beauty moved to follow, a strong hand clamped around her wrist.
Once the doctors and nurses were out of earshot, Lucas pinned her against the wall, his voice low and firm.
