Fine dust from the ventilation shaft drifted slowly down, dirtying the shoulder of the surgical scrubs I wore as camouflage. I pressed my face against the one-way glass that separated the dark observation room from the blinding light of the main operating theater below. My lungs still felt like they were being scraped by ninety-six hot needles from the residue of Sarin gas, but the sight below made that pain evaporate into frozen rage.
Dahlia lay there. Her small body was surrounded by a mesh of sensor cables and robotic arms moving with terrifying precision. Above her chest, a hologram projector mapped her weak heartbeat in a blazing red color. On the adjacent table, Serena lay rigid, eyes closed, but her hands were tied tightly to the sides of the table.
"Jax, your oxygen saturation le
