Page 33 of Shattered By Grace

“Thirty-six weeks. Pre-eclamptic, but stable until now.”

“Prep for an emergency C-section. I’m on my way.” She yanked open her closet, grabbing scrubs. “Page anesthesia, get NICU ready, and start fluids. Call if anything changes.”

“Already on it.”

Victoria ended the call, exhaling sharply.

So much for a day off.

Victoria barely registered her own movements as she stumbled toward the kitchen, her body running on instinct.Caffeine. Now.She grabbed the half-full pot of coffee from last night, poured a generous amount into a mug, and downed it in a few desperate gulps.Cold. Bitter. Awful.She grimaced but didn’t care. It was fuel, and she needed it.

Slamming the empty mug into the sink, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Brush teeth. Grab bag. Go.

In the living room, Clawdia perched on the couch, tail flicking, watching her with judgmental eyes.No time.Still, guilt pricked at her.

“I know, I know. Sorry, girl,” she muttered, giving the cat a quick scratch behind the ears before rushing for the door.

Her fingers were already on the lock when she noticed the folded note taped to the front. Seriously? Probably from her grumpy neighbor complaining about the punching bag again. Rolling her eyes, she ripped it off and stuffed it into her bag without a glance.

She yanked the door shut, locked it, and bolted down the stairs, the cold morning air jolting her as she hit the street. The hospital was minutes away, but her pulse was already racing.

No time. No time. No time.

As Victoria jogged down the empty street, a prickle of unease crawled up her spine. Subtle at first, a whisper of awareness, but it sharpened, pressing against her instincts like a blade.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, firm and unwavering.Never draw attention to yourself when you feel a threat. Stay alert. Remember everything.

She kept her pace steady, her breathing controlled, but her senses flared awake. The city’s pre-dawn silence felt too thick, too expectant, as if the world itself was holding its breath. She didn’t turn her head, didn’t react, but she cataloged every detail.

A parked car, windows too dark. A figure leaning against a lamppost up ahead. The flicker of movement from an alley she passed. Each detail logged, her body primed to react.

Stay calm. Blend in.

She subtly adjusted her route, her heartbeat steady but her mind anything but.

Her father had drilled it into her from a young age. Spot a threat without letting them know you’ve seen them.

She focused on her breathing, feet hitting the pavement in steady rhythm, but every detail around her sharpened. The rustle of leaves. The hum of distant traffic. The weight of unseen eyes tracking her.

Resisting the urge to look back, she took stock of her options. A convenience store ahead, an alley to her left, a bus stop a block away. Her grip tightened on her bag, muscles coiled, ready.

Only when the hospital came into view did the tension ease just a fraction. More people. More cover. But not enough to shake the unease burrowed deep in her bones.

With a final, discreet glance over her shoulder, she stepped inside, cool, sterile air wrapping around her. Whatever shadow had been following her stayed outside, but the feeling lingered.

What the fuck was that?

Even as she headed to labor and delivery, the unease clung to her, like the first charge in the air before a storm.

Right now, she wasn’t just Victoria or Grace.

“I’m Nurse Scarlett, a badass midwife who doesn’t break under pressure, turns chaos into order, and delivers babies like a damn legend.”

She rolled her shoulders back, exhaling slowly. Get it together. A quick mental rundown of patient charts, possible complications, and the night ahead sharpened her focus.

“Alright,” she muttered, straightening her posture. “Let’s bring some babies into the world.”

---