“Your blood pressure is elevated, Colonel,” the nurse said, adjusting the monitor beside my bed. “We need to keep you calm.”

The double doors of the ward swung open, and the heavy tread of combat boots echoed down the tiled hallway.

Lieutenant General Marcus Vale walked in, wearing his dress uniform, his expression grim and focused.

Two armed military police officers stood at attention just outside the doorway.

“Tessa,” General Vale said, stepping to my bedside. “The hospital staff has been briefed. You are safe here.”

“Thank you, General,” I whispered, my throat dry.

Before he could reply, loud voices sounded from the reception desk outside my room.

“I am her husband!” Grant’s voice carried through the thin walls. “You have no right to keep me out of there!”

General Vale turned his head toward the door and nodded to one of the MPs. “Bring them in.”

Grant pushed past the curtain, wet hair plastered to his forehead, with Brielle hovering just behind his shoulder.

He stopped dead when he saw the three-star general standing next to my bed.