The digital clock on the car dashboard read 11:40 PM. The hospital's main entrance now looked deserted, illuminated only by the dull, white light of the lobbies. The flow of doctors and nurses had drastically dwindled, giving way to the sepulchral silence of the night shift.
Jake took a deep breath, adjusting his black baseball cap to hide his hair and part of his face. He knew he was playing with fire. If the federation caught him lurking around the hospital at this hour after the afternoon's media scandal, they could suspend his competitive license for "unsportsmanlike conduct." But skating had taught him that when you are about to lose your balance, only speed and precision can save you from the fall. And right now, Bek's life and career hung by a thread.
