Dante moved the moment the discharge paperwork cleared.
His hand was already at Mila's back before the nurse had finished her final instructions about rest and hydration. The hospital had processed everything with the kind of efficiency that screamed that they were done with the men and wanted to wash their hands of them.
He didn't acknowledge the speed or the deference. He simply took what was offered and guided Mila toward the exit without waiting for anything else to go wrong.
She moved beside him without resistance, her steps steady enough that he didn't need to adjust his pace significantly. It seemed like the sequalae from the drugs had faded into something more manageable. And, while he could still see the slight delay in her responses when she turned her head or shifted her weight, it wasn't enough to slow her down in any meaningful way.
She was almost fully recovered, and that was all that mattered to him.
