324 THE MYSTERY CALLER

The sterile scent of disinfectant battled with the metallic tang of blood that clung to the air. Harsh fluorescent lights cast an unforgiving glare upon the scene before them. Luke, his face etched with a mask of horror, gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white. Isabella, tears carving tracks down her porcelain cheeks, held their son's limp hand, her touch as light as a feather on his feverish skin. Madison's usually vibrant eyes dulled with grief stood a silent sentinel by their side. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor mocked the stillness in the room. Bandages, stark white against the pale sheet, did little to hide the gruesome wounds that marred their son's once-innocent body. A strangled sob escaped Isabella's lips as she traced a finger along a nasty gash on his forehead. Just then, Luke's phone buzzed, the shrill ringtone jarring in the oppressive silence. He glanced at the screen, a flicker of something akin to surprise crossing his features before he excused himself