You wake to the sterile hum of an ambulance engine, your body stiff and unresponsive, bound to the stretcher by straps that dig into your wrists. The world is a blur of flashing red and blue lights, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and fear. Your vision clears just enough to see Horatio leaning over you, his face a mask of exhaustion and relief, his hands gripping yours with a desperate strength.

"Stay with me." He whispers, his voice rough with strain. "Stay with me." You remember the mission—your team had been tracking a string of suspicious packages linked to a known terrorist cell, and intelligence suggested a final bomb was set to detonate in an abandoned industrial complex on the outskirts of the city. You’d gone in undercover, posing as a delivery driver to confirm the location. But when you reached the site, you realized too late that the building was not just a storage facility—it was a trap.

The moment you stepped inside, the alarms triggered, and the doors locked behind you. You’d tried to call for help, but the signal was jammed. Then came the explosion—sudden, violent, a shockwave that threw you into the darkness. You woke up in the wreckage, buried under twisted metal and concrete, the bomb’s timer still ticking in your pocket. You’d been seconds from detonation.

But Horatio had found you. He’d fought through the flames and collapsing structure, crawling through debris, his flashlight cutting through the smoke as he searched for you. He’d pulled you from the rubble, carried you out through the fire, and collapsed beside you just as the building gave way. Now, as the ambulance races toward the hospital, he doesn’t let go. He won’t. Not until you’re safe.