His skin felt burning hot, a sharp contrast to the damp sweat coating his forehead.

“His vitals spiked ten minutes ago,” Mrs. Gable said, her hands shaking as she adjusted the IV drip. “He’s fighting something.”

“Did you call the doctor?” I demanded.

“Dr. Phillips isn’t answering his phone,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “He never answers at this hour.”

“Then call an ambulance!”

“No,” a voice barked from the doorway.

Jason stood there, his chest rising and falling, his eyes scanning the room.

“No ambulances,” Jason repeated, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “We handle this internally.”

“He is having a seizure, Jason!” I yelled, refusing to let go of Ethan’s hand.

Ethan’s fingers suddenly tightened around mine, his grip surprisingly strong, almost desperate.

My breath hitched in my throat as I looked down at him.

His eyelids were fluttering, the dark lashes twitching against his pale skin.

“He’s trying to wake up,” I whispered.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jason said, walking over to the medical cart. “He’s reacting to a change in his environment.”