Night leaked into the corners of the room. The hallway lights had gone low; the monitor blinked in a soft rhythm that made time feel like a small, stubborn thing. I was lightheaded from the unit Harrow had fought to keep slow. Every few minutes the world dimmed and brightened, as if the room couldn't decide how real to be.
Outside, a guard cleared his throat and shifted his boots. Another answered in a murmur. Evans had doubled the watch. When Daisy texted an hour ago—“I'm okay. They grabbed me, then Norrie moved me to a holding room. I can't get to you."—I stared at the words until they blurred and typed back only: “Breathe."
I tried to sleep. Sleep was a door that wouldn't open. I lay on my side, an arm wrapped around the ache that used to be a future, and watched the seam where the wa
