Her lashes flutter.
Once.
Twice.
Then still again.
But it’s enough.
It’s more than I’ve had.
“She’s responding,” I say, not even realizing I’ve spoken out loud.
A nurse steps in, checking monitors. “That’s good. Very good.”
Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.
I brush my thumb lightly across her hand.
“Come on,” I say softly. “You’re almost there.”
Clay
“We’ve got something.”
Lucas’s voice cuts through the noise.
I’m at his side in a second.
“What.”
He turns the tablet.
A map.
Highlighted.
“There’s a secondary facility—eight miles northeast. Private medical storage on paper, but no real activity logged.”
Off-grid.
Quiet.
Perfect for what they’re doing.
Miles leans in. “That’s too convenient.”
“Exactly,” I say.
Which means it’s right.
We park two blocks out. “We go in quiet.”
Lucas glances at me. “If they’ve got the kids there, they’ll be ready this time.”
“Good,” I answer.
Because so are we.
