“Sir, you need to step back,” the guard said, his voice level but firm.

Grant did not step back; instead, he tried to peer over the guard’s shoulder.

“She’s my child, too,” Grant yelled, his eyes darting toward the row of incubators visible through the inner glass. “You can’t keep me out of here.”

I took another step forward, the wheels of my IV pole squeaking loudly on the floor.

The pain in my lower abdomen flared like a hot iron, but I kept my spine straight.

“Grant,” I said.

My voice was raspy from the intubation, but it carried down the hallway.

He spun around, his eyes widening as they landed on me in my hospital gown.

Then his gaze shifted to Naomi, who was still holding her vibrating phone, and finally to General Vale.

For a second, Grant’s bravado flickered, his shoulders dropping slightly at the sight of the uniform.

“Tessa,” Grant said, stepping toward me before the guard moved to block him again. “Thank God. Tell these people to let me in.”

“You are not going near her,” I said.