She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 758

The monitors screamed their frantic warnings.

Loyce locked her eyes on Lucian. He was deathly pale on the operating table, his leg a horrifying, bloodied mess of exposed tissue. She let Nightingale help her stand, bracing herself against the edge of the surgical table. She stared down the stunned lead surgeon.

"I am his primary physician. I know his exact physiology. From this second forward, you do exactly what I tell you."

Her gaze was so commanding and intense, and the two heavily armed bodyguards hovering near the door looked so dangerous, that the lead surgeon simply nodded. Trembling, he repositioned his hands over the ruined leg.

"Swap the irrigation fluid for Ringer's lactate mixed with 8% povidone-iodine. Ten to one ratio. Keep it exactly at 35 degrees Celsius. Continuous low-pressure wash, now."

As she spoke, Loyce leaned closer, guided by Nightingale, intensely mapping out the shattered vasculature and frayed nerve bundles inside the wound.

"Hemostats—clamp here, and here. Do not attempt to dissect the adhered nerve bundles. Use 4-0 absorbable sutures for intermittent exterior wrapping. Keep them in their original anatomical position. Light hands!"

Her commands were so flawlessly precise that the lead surgeon couldn't help but stare at her. He quickly realized he was dealing with an elite, world-class trauma specialist.

Under Loyce's unyielding direction, sweat beaded on the surgeon's forehead, but his hands grew remarkably steady.

"See that discolored muscle fascia? That's pre-necrotic tissue from toxin exposure and ischemia. It's salvageable. Pack it with cold saline gauze for localized hypothermia, and push the two broad-spectrum antidotes and vasodilators I just named through his IV. Max out the dosage for his body weight."

Loyce spoke rapidly, her logic crystalline. Not only was she barking orders, but she preemptively corrected complications before they even happened. Following her lead, the surgeon smoothly navigated what had been an impossible crisis.

As the medical staff called out improving vitals, the crushing despair in the room shifted into cautious adrenaline.

Loyce's face was ashen, fine sweat glistening on her forehead as she pushed her exhausted body to its absolute limits. But her eyes never left the surgical field and the monitors.

Minute by agonizing minute ticked by.

Finally, when every visible nerve tract and major artery had been painstakingly clamped, wrapped, and preserved, Loyce let out a long, shaky breath.

The leg was still a swollen, horrific sight, but it remained firmly attached to Lucian's body. Blood was finally circulating—slowly, but undeniably—through the tissues they had just dragged back from the brink.

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