At around 11 p.m., Seven wheeled Sana down the hushed corridor, its sterile lights fading to the muted glow spilling from the staff parking garage. When the door opened, the night rushed in: 45 degrees of biting air laced with the faint scent of rain and asphalt.

  Without a word, Seven shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The fabric was still warm from his body, its heat seeping through the flimsy hospital gown, wrapping her in comfort.

  She blinked up at him, startled by the gesture. “Seven…”

  “You need to keep warm,” he said, already moving to open the SUV’s door.

  But then he stilled, hand frozen on the handle. The image of her small frame drenched in blood flashed unbidden across his mind. His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t have time to clean the back seat.”

  Sana tilted her head, a soft smile chasing away the fatigue in her features. “Why are you apologizing? You saved my life, Seven. This is nothing.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he crouched and slid one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back. When he lifted her from the wheelchair, he did so with care that bordered on reverence, as if one wrong move could shatter her.

  Her head settled into the crook of his neck, and suddenly, the chill was gone. All she felt was the solid strength of him, the heat radiating through his scrubs, the faint tang of antiseptic clinging to his skin. Her cheeks burned, hidden mercifully by the night.

  “You’re as light as a feather,” he muttered under his breath as he eased her into the seat. “Too light. I’ll work on your diet once you’re cleared.”

  Her heart gave a traitorous flutter. Before she could respond, the door clicked shut, and Seven strode back to return the wheelchair.

  Minutes later, the SUV rolled to a stop at the gatehouse. Seven lowered the window, and the guard’s face lit up in recognition. “Leaving for the night, Colonel? Have a good one!”

  Seven offered a crisp salute. “You too.”

  ……

  The drive to Inova unfolded in silence, broken only by the hum of the tires and Sana’s steady breathing. When they arrived, the waiting medical team swept her onto a stretcher with practiced efficiency, Kasra shadowing every move like a sentinel.

  Seven parked the SUV and pulled a duffel from the trunk before making his way upstairs. His footsteps were soundless on the polished floor. As he reached the ward, he rapped lightly on the door.

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  “Come in,” a voice called from inside.

  The room was bright, but heavy with unspoken tension. Seven took in the tableau at a glance: a cluster of young men in tailored suits, a woman with tear-streaked cheeks, the muted rustle of expensive fabric, and a man who anchored it all with sheer dominance.

  Tall. Broad-shouldered. Slate-gray eyes framed by strong brows. His presence was cut from the same cloth as Kasra’s, only sharper, older—a man in his prime, power worn like a second skin.

  Kasra crossed over, clapping Seven lightly on the shoulder. “Seven, I’d like you to meet my father, Sadra.”

  Sadra stepped forward, his hand extended in a gesture that was both formal and deeply personal. His grip was firm, unyielding yet warm.

  “Colonel Seven,” he said, his voice threaded with emotion. “It’s an honor to meet you. We are indebted to you for saving Sana’s life. She is the only girl born into our family in four generations, our rarest treasure.”

  For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Seven clasped the offered hand without hesitation, conviction in the pressure of his hold.

  “Mr. Shahi,” he replied evenly, “I’d do the same for anyone.”

  Sadra’s gaze flicked briefly to the pale figure on the bed before returning, steel simmering beneath the civility. “Kasra tells me you might face disciplinary action for treating Sana without clearance. Whatever you need, we’ll make it happen.”

  Seven inclined his head, slow and deliberate. “I appreciate that. But as I told Kasra, there’s no sense worrying until there’s something to fight. We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it.”

  Sadra’s shoulders eased a fraction, the storm behind his expression yielding to something else. It was not relief but respect.

  Seven’s focus drifted to the two empty beds, pulling him back to the purpose that had drawn him here.

  “For now, the priority is Mr. Porter. Once the surgery’s done, I’ll map out his treatment plan. I’ll stay here with him and Sana until they’re both ready for discharge. Does that work for you?”

  A breath passed before Sadra gave a measured nod. “We’ll follow your lead. We trust you, Colonel.”

  “Just call me Seven,” he corrected, soft but firm.

  A smile ghosted across Sadra’s lips. “Alright, Seven.”

  Kasra picked up where his father left off, gesturing to the other three men nearby. “My brothers: Kian, Kayan, and Kimi. Kimi’s the legal counsel I mentioned earlier.”

  Kimi approached with a handshake that matched the resolve in his stance.

  “Seven. You saved our sister. That matters more than you know.” His tone hardened. “I’ll assemble a team tomorrow to review precedent and military protocols. Copy me on all your correspondence. Rest assured, I’ll do my level best to win this case.”

  Seven felt it then, a ripple beneath his calm exterior. “Thank you,” he said simply.

  Introductions circled to the women: Ami, perched on the bed, clutching Sana’s hand, and Lara, rooted beside them, sharp-eyed and immovable.

  Ami’s voice broke on a sob as she spoke, “Y–Young man… thank you for saving my baby.”

  Seven’s features softened. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Shahi. Sana is out of the woods now. She’ll be as good as new in a couple of months.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded, clinging to the words like a lifeline.

  Seven’s eyes flicked to the clock—half past midnight. His appeal, calm but commanding, carried through the quiet: “Mr. Shahi, it’s getting late. Sana needs to get cleaned up. I’m heading to the staff counter to get some supplies for her. I’ll see you all again tomorrow after Mr. Porter’s surgery, alright?”

  Sadra checked his watch, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “Yes, you’re right, Seven. Guys, it’s time to go.”

  The Shahi men rose in unison. Goodnights were traded, hands lingering briefly on Sana before they filed out.