"Is the machine even working?" Mayhem demands, his dark eyes wildly darting over the blank gray screen. "Fix it. Fix the f*****g machine!"
Dad doesn't say a word, but the sudden, terrifying pressure radiating off him is enough to suck the oxygen right out of the room. He grips the headboard behind me so hard that the frame gives a tiny, metallic groan.
Locke hovers over the bed, his shadow dark and imposing over the cart. His jaw is clamped shut so tight the muscle twitches violently beneath his skin, his knuckles stark white where his hand clutches mine like a lifeline.
“Hold on a second," Dr. Kline says with impressive calm, completely unfazed by the three massive, frantic men towering over her. "The fetus is very small at this stage, and the wand was positioned over your abdominal mu
