“You are blocking access to my vehicle while a medically unstable adult is inside.”
Greer raised a hand.
“Stop using that professional voice with us.”
I reached inside my jacket.
Bryce tensed.
I removed my credential wallet.
The identification established my role with the security contractor and the emergency response work attached to it.
I did not need to threaten anyone.
I simply held it where they could see it.
“This is now an active medical transport.”
No one spoke.
“If you continue blocking this vehicle, I will document every person preventing us from leaving and provide that information when emergency authorities become involved.”
Hayes moved first.
He stepped backward.
“I’m not blocking anybody.”
Greer turned toward him.
“Hayes.”
He kept walking.
“I called her.”
Sutton stared at him.
“You what?”
“Merritt couldn’t breathe.”
That single sentence changed the group.
Bryce looked at Merritt through the window.
Then he moved aside.
An aunt followed.
Then an uncle.
Someone behind Greer muttered that this had gone too far.
Within seconds, the semicircle broke.
Thatcher remained near the hood.
I approached him.
He looked exhausted.
“Winslow.”
I stopped.
“If she dies, nothing you say afterward will matter.”
I walked around him.
Inside the SUV, I secured Merritt’s oxygen and drove.
I did not remember most of the trip afterward.
I remembered red lights.
The oxygen gauge.
Merritt’s eyelids fluttering.
My hand gripping the steering wheel.
At the trauma center entrance, I stopped directly outside the emergency doors and called for help.
A medical team came quickly.
One nurse took the oxygen.
Another helped transfer Merritt.
The doors closed behind them.
Then I had nothing to do.
That was worse than the drive.
For nearly two hours, I sat in a hard chair beneath fluorescent lights.
My hands would not stop trembling.
I replayed everything.
Thanksgiving.
The trust.
Every apology Merritt had made because adults taught her that staying alive inconvenienced them.
When the doctor finally walked toward me, I stood before he said my name.
“Are you Merritt’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“She’s stable.”