Elena Vasquez
The hospital’s fluorescent lights buzzed like a swarm of hornets, each flicker a pulse in the migraine hammering my skull. Mamá’s ICU room was a sanctuary of beeps and antiseptic, her bed the only calm in the storm. She slept, her chest rising steady, the antidote finally winning against Victor’s poison. Marco sat at her bedside, his laptop dark for once, his fingers twitching like they missed the keys. Alexander stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the Manhattan skyline, his phone a lifeline to Lila’s team scrubbing the city for Victor’s ghosts. The drive, the real one—was in FBI custody, its secrets locked behind Marco’s final firewall. Reed, the mole, was dead on Grand Central’s platform, his blood still warm under Sofia’s shot. Victor was cuffed, bleeding, e
