As soon as the plane touched down, Camila was the first one out of her seat, practically sprinting through the terminal.

She grabbed a taxi, her voice tight with urgency. "Médica Sur, por favor. Rápido."

The taxi driver, sensing her distress, nodded and sped off, weaving through the city's chaotic traffic. The journey was a blur of honking horns, crowded streets, and towering buildings. Camila pulled out her phone, dialing Rachel's number, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Rachel..." Camila's voice trembled, strained with a 20-hour flight's worth of fear. "How is he? Is he stable now?"

"Camila," Rachel's voice was low, heavy. "He... he hasn't regained consciousness. They're still...