She drew in a shaky breath, trying to anchor herself but the man did not stop convulsing.
He convulsed violently.
The table rattled.
Lara stumbled back, horror flooding her face, her mind blanking in an instant.
"I—"
"Don't panic."
Yannis again. His voice firm and grounding.
"Look at me, Lara."
She did.
"Breathe. Then continue."
Her lungs burned as she forced air in, then out. Again. Again.
The chaos dulled at the edges.
Her hands steadied.
This time, when she moved, there was no hesitation.
The needle pierced skin cleanly.
In. Through. Out.
Each motion deliberate. Each stitch precise.
She worked faster now, but not reckless—controlled, just as she'd been told.
Guiding, not forcing.
Until finally she was done.
The last knot tightened.
The wound closed. The bleeding stopped.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the man's body slackened.
Too still.
Lara's stomach dropped.
"No—"
He wasn't breathing.
