Something inside Morrison snapped.All the humiliation he'd endured—Chen's slap, the threats to his career, the impossible demand that he grovel before Alex—it all came boiling up in a wave of rage so intense he couldn't see straight.His hand flew up, palm open, aimed directly at Jenkins's face.I'm a captain! Morrison's mind screamed. A CAPTAIN! I've earned respect! I've put in twenty years! I deserve authority! And this nobody—this worthless, insubordinate nobody—dares to speak to me like this? In front of everyone?The slap was meant to be devastating. To be a statement. To prove that Captain James Morrison still commanded respect and fear in his own station, regardless of what Director Chen thought.But the blow never landed.Jenkins moved with surprising speed, his body shifting to the side, his head ducking slightly. Morrison's hand whistled through empty air, the momentum throwing Morrison slightly off-balance.Jenkins straightened, a cold smile playing at his lips. "Did you r

Morrison's laughter echoed through the hallway—loud, harsh, and triumphant. It was the laugh of a man who'd finally regained control, who'd reminded everyone why they should fear him, who'd proven that despite everything, he still held power over their lives and careers."You see?" Morrison said, his voice still carrying that manic edge. "You see what happens? This is what power looks like! This is what authority means!"He pointed at Jenkins and Peter, his finger jabbing aggressively through the air. "I don't care what anyone thinks about how I lead. I don't care what accusations you throw at me. Because at the end of the day, I'm the one who decides who stays and who goes. I'm the one with the connections. I'm the one who makes the calls that determine your futures!"Jenkins stood silent, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached, watching Morrison's victory lap with barely suppressed rage."You two think you're so brave?" Morrison continued, his voice dripping with mockery. "You think s

Director Chen's presence seemed to fill the entire hallway, his authority so absolute that every firefighter present instinctively lowered their heads in respect. Even the security guards, who'd been seconds away from removing Jenkins and Peter, stood at attention, waiting for direction.Everyone bowed their heads.Everyone except Morrison.Morrison kept his face turned toward Chen, his expression still hard, still defiant. His jaw was set, his shoulders squared. He'd just exercised his power, had reminded everyone who he was, and he wasn't about to shrink before Chen again. Not in front of his crew. Not after what he'd just done.Chen's eyes swept across the assembled group, taking in the scene with the practiced assessment of someone who'd been managing crises for decades. His gaze lingered on Jenkins and Peter, then moved to the security guards, then finally settled on Morrison."I'll ask one more time," Chen said, his voice carrying clearly despite its measured tone. "What is happ

Jenkins stood on the sidewalk, very aware of the stares from passing pedestrians, the occasional phone camera pointed in their direction, the whispered comments and barely suppressed laughter. But his attention was focused on Peter, who sat crumpled on the concrete, his shoulders still shaking with silent sobs.The guilt hit Jenkins like a physical weight. This kid—this twenty-three-year-old kid who'd just been trying to start his career—was now half-naked on a public street, his entire future destroyed. And it was Jenkins's fault.If he'd just kept his mouth shut. If he'd just let Morrison vent his rage on Peter without intervening. If he'd just been smart instead of righteous, Peter might still have a career. The kid would've been punished, sure—probably put on sanitation duty or given some other humiliating assignment. But he wouldn't have been fired. Wouldn't have been blacklisted. Wouldn't be sitting here in his underwear while strangers took pictures.Jenkins crouched down besid

After stopping at Peter's apartment to grab clothes—jeans and t-shirts that at least let them look somewhat presentable—Jenkins and Peter made their way to St. Mary's Medical Center. The hospital loomed before them, all gleaming glass and steel, a monument to modern medicine and wealth.They pushed through the main entrance, heading straight for the reception desk. A nurse sat behind the counter, her attention focused on a computer screen, her expression the practiced neutrality of someone who dealt with visitors all day."Excuse me," Jenkins said politely. "We're here to visit a patient. Alex Carter. He should be in room 317."The nurse's fingers paused over her keyboard. Her eyes flicked up to assess them—two men in casual clothes, one middle-aged and tired-looking, the other young and still red-eyed from recent crying."I'm sorry," she said, her tone professional but firm. "Mr. Carter is a special patient. Visitation is extremely restricted."Jenkins frowned. "Special patient? What