Julian was already reaching for his radio. “I need medical assistance. Possible respiratory failure.”
Rosie’s hands shook. “Is he going to die?”
Julian knelt beside her. “Not if we help him in time.”
Atlas let out a sharp bark—urgent, insistent.
Paramedics arrived quickly. The man was rushed out on a stretcher, Atlas refusing to leave his side until Julian gently guided him back.
At the hospital, hours blurred together. Rosie sat in a plastic chair, Atlas curled protectively at her feet.
Finally, a doctor approached.
“He’s stable,” she said. “But he needs long-term support. And consistent power for his equipment.”
Rosie nodded numbly. “That’s why I tried to sell Atlas.”
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