Her face was white.
“Dad?”
Ethan’s heart cracked.
“Mia, sweetheart, go back.”
“Is she dying?”
He couldn’t lie to her.
Not about this.
“I’m trying to help her.”
Mia’s eyes filled.
“You promised.”
Ethan stopped breathing for half a second.
Diane looked between them.
“Promised what?”
Mia whispered, “That you wouldn’t do this anymore.”
Ethan’s face went rigid.
“Mia. Seat. Now.”
“But Dad—”
“Please.”
That word did what the command couldn’t.
Mia turned and disappeared behind the curtain.
Ethan resumed counting.
Twenty-seven.
Twenty-eight.
Twenty-nine.
Thirty.
Analyze.
The machine processed Victoria’s rhythm again.
“No shock advised.”
Ethan checked her neck.
Nothing.
He began compressions again.
His arms were burning now.
A memory flashed.
