Dr. Aris Thorne's influence moved fast.
Within thirty minutes, a specialized medical convoy arrived outside the secluded mansion. A sleek, armored medical ambulance rolled to a controlled stop, its stabilized gurney system already prepared for trauma transport.
The team that stepped out did not look like ordinary emergency staff. They wore minimalist grey uniforms and moved with quiet discipline, communicating in low voices and precise gestures. Their coordination felt closer to a tactical unit than a medical crew. They exchanged only brief words with Atlas and Leo's guards. No one bothered explaining anything to Tristan Vance, who stood nearby with a pale expression as the realization settled in. His VIP patient and the future he had planned around him were slipping out of his grasp.
