Chapter 37: The Battle Indoor

The operating room was a cold, sterile theater, its hum of machinery a stark contrast to the tension gripping everyone present. Gray stood at the head of the table, her hands steady as she directed the team of surgeons and nurses. Dale's unconscious form lay before her, his chest marred by the wound that had brought him so close to death. 

"Vitals?" Gray asked sharply, her voice cutting through the subdued din of the room. 

"Heart rate's dropping," a nurse replied, glancing at the monitor. "BP's at 85 over 50." 

"We don't have much time," Gray muttered. She leaned closer, her eyes laser-focused as she worked. "Suction. Now." 

---

In the hospital corridor, Rhys paced furiously, his phone pressed to his ear. The call was finally connected. 

"Your Majesty," he began, his voice low but urgent. 

"Rhys? What is it?" King Gregor's voice was calm but edged with concern. 

"Dale's been critically injured during our mission. He's in surgery now," Rhys explained. 

A brief silence fell, and when the king spoke again, his tone was clipped. "Who's leading the operation?" 

"Dr. Gray," Rhys replied, his tone softening. "She's... extraordinary, Your Majesty. If anyone can save him, it's her." 

The king let out a slow breath. "I know and I trust your judgment, Rhys. Keep me informed. And tell Gray... I am grateful." 

"Understood." Rhys ended the call, his gaze flicking toward the operating room doors before he immediately dialed another number. 

---

Queen Amara stormed into the hospital minutes later, her composure regal yet purposeful. She was met by Rhys and the rest of the Phantoms—Lira, Blake, Zane, and Gavin—who quickly surrounded her. 

"How is he?" she asked, her voice steady but betraying a hint of fear. 

"He's still in surgery," Rhys said, gesturing toward the operating room. "Dr. Gray is leading it." 

The Queen's lips pressed into a thin line, but her shoulders visibly relaxed. "If it's her, then I know he's in the best hands." 

Gavin, ever the optimist, tried to lighten the mood. "She's like a machine, Your Majesty. Calm, precise, and scary brilliant. Dale's got this." 

The Queen offered him a small smile, her gratitude evident. "Thank you for trying to ease my mind." 

Lira, sitting nearby, added, "She's one of us, in a way. I've seen her work under fire. This is no different." 

---

"Clamp," Gray ordered, extending her hand. 

The nurse placed the tool in her palm, and Gray swiftly secured a major artery that had been nicked. The bleeding slowed, but Dale's vitals continued to waver. 

"He's crashing," someone said. 

"Not on my table," Gray snapped. "Adrenaline. 1 milligram." 

She injected the drug directly into Dale's heart, watching intently as his heartbeat stuttered before stabilizing. 

"Good. Let's remove the bullet fragment." 

Her focus was unyielding, her every movement deliberate. The fragment was lodged dangerously close to his left lung. One slip could puncture it and lead to catastrophic consequences. 

"Suction here. Clear the field," she said, her tone unwavering. 

A junior surgeon hesitated, their hands trembling as they reached for the fragment. 

"Stop," Gray barked. She locked eyes with them. "If you're not steady, step back. This is his life we're handling." 

The surgeon stepped aside, and Gray took over, her hands moving with surgical precision. 

Minutes passed like hours. 

Outside the operating room, the tension was palpable. Queen Amara sat upright, her posture regal despite the worry in her eyes. Lira leaned against the wall, her arms crossed. Zane and Gavin exchanged quiet words, their voices too low to carry. 

Rhys finally broke the silence. "He's tougher than he looks. He'll pull through." 

The Queen glanced at him. "I'm not as worried as you might think," she said. 

Her calm surprised the group. 

"Why not?" Blake asked. 

"Because I trust my daughter-in-law," the Queen replied simply. "She doesn't fail." 

---

In the operating room, the bullet fragment was finally removed. 

"Got it," Gray said, holding it up briefly before placing it in a tray. "Now, let's repair the damage." 

She worked meticulously, suturing the torn artery and stabilizing the area around the lung. Her hands never wavered, even as exhaustion crept into her body. 

"Check vitals," she instructed. 

"Stable," a nurse confirmed. 

Gray let out a quiet breath of relief but didn't stop. She moved seamlessly into the next phase, ensuring no complications would arise. 

Hours later, the operating room doors finally opened. Gray stepped out, her scrubs stained with blood, her face drawn but composed. 

The Queen rose immediately, her eyes searching Gray's expression. 

"He's stable," Gray said, her voice calm but tinged with exhaustion. "We repaired the damage. He'll need time to recover, but he's going to be fine." 

The Queen's relief was evident in the way her shoulders sagged slightly. 

"Thank you," she said, her voice soft but sincere. 

Gray nodded, her gaze briefly meeting Rhys's before she excused herself to clean up. 

In the ward, Louise was propped up in bed, Axel sitting beside her. He glanced up when Gray entered, his expression neutral but respectful. 

"How's Dale?" Louise asked. 

"Stable," Gray replied. "He'll be fine." 

Louise smiled faintly. "Knew you'd pull it off." 

Gray didn't respond, her mind already shifting to the next steps. There was no time to dwell—not when there were more battles ahead.