Page 71 of Titus

I glanced toward the cockpit. “Understood.”

“Good. And hey,” I could hear a slight shift in her voice, “thank you for getting her there quickly.”

My eyes moved back toward Amelia as tears streamed silently down her face.

“Not a problem,” I responded softly. “It seems she ended up in the wrong location,” I said with a smile, aware that she had mixed up the buildings, “but she was there at the right time.”

I hung up the call just as Amelia seized my arm again during another intense wave of pain.

Shit.

The helicopter descended over downtown Los Angeles, the city lights sprawling endlessly beneath us as Saint John’s came into view ahead.

Even from above, the hospital stood apart from everything around it, with its modern glass towers and emergency lighting cutting through the dusk.

I glanced over and saw the illuminated rooftop landing pad directly ahead. “Almost there,” I told Amelia as another soft cry escaped her.

I felt awful that I couldn’t help ease her pain. From the moment I saw her and all the way through the twenty-five-minute flight, she’d been in agony.

The second the helicopter touched down, movement erupted across the rooftop. A full response team was already waiting near the pad.

Then I noticed John, surrounded by two ER nurses, transport, and security.

John Aster looked every bit the bad-ass doctor he’d become over the years, calm and controlled under pressure. Having known John since childhood, I couldn’t imagine Amelia in better hands. The man had always been calm under pressure, even as kids.

The second the blades began to slow, John moved forward with the team. I unbuckled quickly and turned toward Amelia. “Easy,” I said. “You’re going to be just fine now.”

Tears streamed down her face as another wave of pain surged through her.

“Thank you,” she whispered shakily.

The cabin door slid open in that moment, and the wind whipped through the cabin from the slowing blades overhead.

“Titus,” John acknowledged me sharply before his full attention shifted to Amelia.

“John,” I returned.

I watched with intrigue as John’s demeanor softened when he made eye contact with Amelia. “Hey there,” he said calmly, crouching slightly in front of her seat. “I’m Dr. John Aster. Mickie called ahead and filled me in.”

Amelia nodded weakly, gripping the edge of the leather seat.

“Am I going to lose my baby?” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

John’s expression never changed. There was nothing but calm certainty throughout his being.

“We’re not going to go there just yet,” he answered smoothly. “Right now, my job is to get you downstairs, get imaging done, control your pain, and figure out exactly what’s going on, okay?”

Another tear slid down her cheek as she nodded once more.

“Excellent,” he said gently. “Can you tell me where your pain is worst?”

“Lower…” she winced. “And cramping.”

John nodded once toward the nurses already moving into position.

“All right, let’s get her downstairs now.”

The team immediately sprang into action with practiced precision.