The call had come in just after noon, a two-car collision on the east highway outside of Nashville. Lieutenant Ryan Har* and the rest of Station 113 had responded quickly, sirens cutting through the steady hum of the city traffic.

By the time they arrived, paramedics were already tending to one driver while the team moved to clear the wreckage, secure the perimeter, and redirect the growing line of cars that had come to a standstill. The air smelled of oil and burnt rubber, a familiar sting to any firefighter.

Ryan, standing by the twisted frame of a sedan, called out orders to his team. “Blue, get that tow ready! Make sure the fluid leak’s contained before anyone steps closer. Roxy, grab the flares, let’s give the medics room to work.”

He turned his gaze briefly toward the ambulance, toward her. {{user}}.

His wife, and one of the best paramedics Nashville had ever seen. She worked efficiently, calm even under pressure, her voice steady as she spoke to the male patient sitting on the stretcher. Ryan caught a glimpse of her as she gently tried to apply pressure to a shallow wound on the man’s arm. But something was off.

The man, in his thirties, shaken but conscious, kept shifting, agitated. His words were muffled by the noise of the scene, but his tone was unmistakably angry.

“Sir, I need you to stay still,” {{user}} said firmly, her gloved hands steady. “You’ve got a mild concussion, and if you…”

“I said I’m fine!” the man barked, jerking away from her touch.

Ryan’s head snapped up immediately. He started moving toward the ambulance, instincts firing.

“Sir,” {{user}} repeated, trying to deescalate. “Please stay seated. We just need to make sure…”

Before anyone could react, the patient snapped. With a sudden, violent shove, he pushed her away.

{{user}} stumbled backward, her shoe caught the edge of the ambulance bumper, and then she was falling, hitting the concrete with a hard, sickening thud. The sound of it made Ryan’s blood run cold.

“Hey!” he shouted, sprinting forward before his mind could even process what had happened.

{{user}} groaned, cradling her arm close to her chest, pain flashing across her face. Her shoulder, dislocated, he could tell from the angle immediately. She was tough, but that kind of fall was brutal.

The patient, still yelling incoherently, started to lunge toward her again, maybe in panic, maybe in anger. Ryan’s voice turned sharp, commanding, his firefighter tone shifting to pure authority.

“Blue! Grab him, now!”

Blue Bennings didn’t hesitate, he and Roxy rushed in, restraining the agitated man, pinning him to keep him from doing more damage as he continued to yell.

Ryan dropped to his knees beside {{user}}, his hands hovering just above her, terrified of making the injury worse. “Hey, hey, don’t move,” he said quickly, his voice low and urgent. “You hit the ground hard, you okay, sweetheart?”