Hope's POV.
I approach the toolshed with purpose, the key already in my hand. The two guards stationed outside give me curious glances but don't question me. I nod once, unlocking the door and stepping inside.
Sarah looks up from her cot, brows lifting in surprise. “Back so soon? What is it this time—more casual interrogation or just bored?”
“Neither,” I say, my tone clipped. “I need your help.”
That wipes the smirk off Sarah’s face. “Help?”
“You said you wanted out of here,” I continue, arms crossed. “This is your opportunity.”
Sarah sits up slowly, eyes narrowing. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly. I need you to come with me to the Medical Center. There’s someone there—a friend—who might be able to help with our little poison problem. But I need what you know, and I need you to be honest.
