Lara swept to Bener's side, already rolling up her sleeves."Shaya, what have you done?" she asked, her tone clipped but not unkind.
"I disinfected the wound, used hemostatic powder, and packed cloth to stop the bleeding," Shaya answered quickly, her voice trembling. "But… the gash is too deep. I don't dare stitch it alone."
"You did well." Lara nodded once, her hands already moving. "Now let me finish."
Her fingers were steady as she peeled away the blood-soaked cloth, layer by layer. Warm crimson seeped fresh with every touch, and the metallic scent thickened in the room. Bener's chest rose shallowly, barely perceptible, but it rose—and that was enough for her.
She leaned closer, studying the wound. A deep slash, diagonal across the chest. Torn muscle, close to the rib. Her mind raced, mapping arteries, vessels, the fragile organs beneath. If the blade had gone an inch lower, it would have cut his heart. An inch higher, his lung.
