Davis allowed the men to push his wheelchair through several hallways, his focus on Jessica. He didn't care about the number of turns they took or how long the journey seemed. All that mattered was reaching her.
It didn't matter if his own life was at risk—because if she was lost to him, he wasn't sure he could survive.
His fists remained clenched, his jaw tight, and his eyes dark with worry. The weight of the unknown gnawed at him, making every second feel like an eternity.
He didn't want to imagine the possible scenario he might find her in. He didn't want to wonder what her condition is like —seeing breathing is already enough.
Finally, they arrived at a closed door at the end of the hallway. The men accompanying him paused, knocked lightly, then pushed the door open, stepping aside for him to enter while they remained stationed at the entrance, standing guard.
