“We have to unhook the monitor,” Victoria said, her voice urgent.

“It will trigger an alert at the nurse’s station if we just pull the plugs.”

She reached behind the machine and flipped a standby switch.

The green lights blinked out, but no alarm sounded.

I carefully pulled the tape from his arm and slid the IV needle out.

A small bead of dark blood formed on his skin.

I pressed a piece of gauze against it.

“Alexander, please,” I whispered in his ear.

“It’s Claire. I’m here.”

His eyelids fluttered.

He groaned, a low, dry sound in his throat.

He slowly opened his eyes.

They were clouded with medication, but he looked at me.

He blinked twice.

“Claire?” he whispered.

His voice was cracked and weak.

“Yes, it’s me,” I said, my voice shaking.

“We’re getting you out of here.”

“Can you walk?” Victoria asked, looking toward the door.

“I… I think so,” Alexander murmured.

We helped him sit up.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

He was wearing a simple hospital gown.

He swayed, his balance gone.