“Hold her down!” Cassandra screamed. “Get the crash cart! Her heart is going into SVT—rate is 210, 220!”
Tomás didn’t think. He stepped forward and took hold of Lili’s small, ice-cold hands. They were stiff, the fingers locked into claws. As he held them, a sudden wave of memory crashed over him—holding his daughter Elena’s hand in this very same hospital, feeling the life slip away like sand through an hourglass.
“Lili,” Tomás roared over the sound of the blaring monitors. “Lili, listen to my voice! You are safe! The police are here! The doctors are here! Don’t let it win!”
