Moira's POV

The alarms pierce through my hospital room like ice picks to the brain, sharp and insistent. I jolt upright in bed, my ribs screaming in protest as emergency lights flash red across the sterile walls.

'What the hell—'

My door slams open so hard it rattles the hinges.

Lucas and Logan burst through, both in full battle gear—tactical vests, weapons strapped to their bodies, faces painted with the kind of grim determination that means people are about to ...