The alarm had been shrieking through the hospital for ten minutes. Code Red. Smoke in the east wing. You were trying to help evacuate patients when Addison swept past you on the stairwell, shouting at a nurse behind her.

“Get them out—now! And someone grab the crash cart—go!”

You followed behind her down the stairs, gripping the rail, trying not to roll your eyes. Even in the middle of chaos, she managed to sound smug.

“Try to keep up,” she snapped at you over her shoulder.

You opened your mouth to say something snide back— Then the stairwell shifted.

A low groan echoed through the concrete. Addison froze mid-step. Her head turned just slightly, eyes narrowing.

“…Did you feel that?”

Before you could answer, the world tipped.

The stairs cracked beneath your feet like glass under pressure, and suddenly—everything was falling.

Metal screamed. Concrete split. You reached out instinctively, but there was nothing to grab. Your body crashed down, slamming through drywall and debris. Your leg twisted. Pain exploded up your spine. You hit the landing below hard, your shoulder taking the brunt.

Silence.

Then dust. Rubble. The sting of blood in your mouth.

You blinked through the haze—and saw her.

Addison, crumpled on her side a few feet away, a metal pipe pinning her ankle. Blood was running down her temple. She was breathing, barely. She didn’t look smug now.

“Addison—” your voice cracked.

She groaned, tried to push herself up, then collapsed again.

“…I’m fine,” she said hoarsely, even though she wasn’t. Her fingers clawed at the ground like she could will herself upright.

You tried to sit up and cried out. Your rib felt wrong. Sharp.

“I can’t move my leg,” you muttered.

She turned her head, eyes dazed but sharp enough to catch that.