Armin is coming

Andrine climbed into the SUV beside Bjorn, her hand gripping his tightly. “Stay with me, Bjorn,” she whispered, her voice a plea as the vehicles tore through the night toward Holland Hospital. “Armin’s coming. You just have to hold on.”

The SUVs tore through the night, their engines roaring as they sped down the winding roads toward Holland Hospital. Andrine sat beside Bjorn, her eyes locked on his face as she held his hand tightly, willing him to stay conscious. The interior lights of the vehicle cast a dim glow, highlighting the streaks of blood on his face and the way his breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. Every bump in the road seemed to jolt through her, the fear in her heart tightening with every second.

“Stay with me, Bjorn,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “We’re almost there. Armin’s coming.”

Rico, sitting up front, spoke urgently into his phone. “We’ve got Bjorn Rodriguez coming in—condition critical,” he barked. “Prepare emergency trauma care, now!”

The driver’s hand