Under the dim hospital lights, three CIA agents—Rivera, Joseph, and Loui—sat in the waiting room, their faces tight with concern. Their clothes were still a mess from the chaos on the train earlier that day. Gunfire, screams, and mayhem replayed in their minds, but right now, they only cared about one thing: Dan Reagow.
Dan lay unconscious in the ICU, his head wrapped in bandages, an IV drip hooked to his left hand. The doctors said his condition was stable after they managed to stop the bleeding in his head, but there was no telling when he'd wake up. Rivera looked anxious, Joseph sat with his fists clenched on his lap, and Loui—usually the laid-back one—was dead silent, his expression serious.
“We should get outta here,” Joseph muttered, his voice low but firm. “Sophia ordered us to di
