The hospital room in St. Paul was too quiet.

Rowie Harper lay in the bed, monitors beeping steady but slow, IV dripping into her arm, face pale against the white pillow. Thirty-one years old. Captain of the Boston Fleet. Mother of two. And now—fighting for the life she’d always taken for granted.

Jordan sat beside her, hand wrapped around hers, eyes red from hours of no sleep. He hadn’t left her side since the ambulance brought her in.

The family filled the waiting ...