Grey's POV

I Sara’s face flushed crimson, her eyes wide with panic as she clutched her stomach.

My heart lurched.

I abandoned the half-eaten meal, the clatter of my fork against the plate echoing in the tense silence, and rushed to her side.

“Are you allergic to shellfish?” I asked, my voice tight with worry.

She nodded hastily, still clutching her stomach. “Toilet,” she rasped, barely audible.

I pointed towards the corridor and she ran with a speed that troubled me. I ...