Page 151 of Beyond Protection
"I'm not—"
"I didn't ask."
11:33.
Claire grabbed my hand. "Cormac. You're catastrophizing. Breathe."
We did it together. Four counts in. Four counts hold. Four counts out. Five cycles.
The panic retreated slightly.
11:52.
Ma prayed—quiet murmurs and half-remembered phrases.
Midnight came and went. Then 1:00 AM.
Almost two hours since surgery started.
I watched the clock and counted seconds.
1:33.
The surgical doors opened.
Dr. Randall emerged. Tired but not devastated.
"McCabe family?"
We all stood.
"Mr. Price is out of surgery. It went well. The bullet passed through cleanly—missed major vessels and missed the nerve bundle. We repaired some muscle damage and closed. He's stable."
My knees buckled. Marcus caught my elbow.
"He's in recovery now," Dr. Randall continued. "But—" He paused. "His blood pressure dropped during surgery. We got it stabilized, but we're monitoring closely. The next twelve hours are critical. If he remains stable, he'll move to a regular room tomorrow."
My stomach clenched. "What does that mean?"
"It means he's not out of the woods yet. But he's fighting. And he's asking for Mac."
"I can see him?"
"Twenty minutes. We need to get him settled."
The doctor left.
I sat down hard.
"See?" Ma's voice was soft. "He's fighting. That's what matters."
But the complication—blood pressure dropping—generated new fear.
Claire's hand squeezed mine. "One step at a time."
1:57 AM.
A nurse appeared. "Mac McCabe?"
