The door to the office is open a crack, but it's empty, and the scent is anything but human. Edward is staring down both parts of the hallway, listening, for the weird edges he'd caught.

And yet nothing except a faint sound.

There's a sharp edge to his eyes, to the make of the hunt.

Until Carlisle's voice, full and brilliant with relief, thunders into his head, and the wood under his hand groans with the thread of the door caving if he doesn't let go. Which he does.
If there was a time to believe in God.

Edward closed the door to the office and made for the front doors of the hospital quickly.