Behind the glass, Ivy’s monitor flattened for a terrifying second before spiking back into that same unnatural rhythm, a perfect, even cadence that looked wrong in a way Elaine couldn’t explain, as if the machine were lying.
Knox strained against the zip ties. “You touch her,” he growled, “and you’re going to wish you’d stayed buried.”
Officer Pike hesitated, torn between instinct and authority, and in that hesitation, the silver-haired man’s smile faded.
“Officer,” he said coolly, “this is your last chance to stand on the correct side of history.”
Pike looked at the girl through the glass, at the numbers on her arm, at the fear on Elaine’s face, and something in him cracked.
He reached down.
Cut the zip ties.
The alarms started immediately.
Red strobes flashed. Doors slammed shut automatically. A computerized voice echoed through the hospital.
LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT.
Knox didn’t waste time.
He grabbed a metal crash cart, swinging it with bone-rattling force into the nearest agent, chaos erupting as staff screamed and scattered, glass shattering, the sterile order of the ER collapsing into something primal and loud.
“Elaine!” Knox shouted. “Get her out. Basement. Now!”