At that moment, the lights in the basement flickered again, and the overhead speaker crackled to life.

A synthetic voice echoed through the concrete corridors.

“Code Blue, NICU, Ward Four. Code Blue.”

The mechanical voice repeated the alert, cold and steady.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“The twins,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“They’re in Ward Four.”

Ethan was already moving toward the heavy metal door of the basement.

“Maya, stay on that feed,” Ethan ordered, his hand gripping the brass doorknob.

“Watch Eleanor’s every step.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said, stumbling slightly as I stood up from the folding chair.

My legs felt like lead, but the fear drove me forward.

We ran out into the dim corridor, the concrete walls reflecting the rhythmic red flash of the emergency lights.

The elevator was too slow, so we took the stairs, our footsteps echoing loudly in the concrete well.

My lungs burned by the time we reached the fourth floor.

Ethan pushed the heavy double doors open, and the sterile smell of antiseptic hit my nose.

The NICU was quiet, too quiet for a Code Blue.