LOGIN(Maya)They haven’t taken me back to the hospital.I’m still sitting in this room while they do whatever it is they are doing.I hear voices. Sounds like an argument. Suddenly the door opens.Keaton Vale walks in.For a second my lungs almost stop working. Relief hits hard enough to make my eyes sting.He looks at me. A quick scan—wrists, face, posture—then his gaze locks on mine.“Are you hurt?” he asks.“No,” I say. My voice is rough. “They told me I was free. But they haven’t let me go back to Lucy yet.”The woman from earlier stands near the door with a folder. Two men in suits hover behind her, arms folded, faces set.“Is she under arrest?” Keaton asks the woman who questioned me. “No. She is here because she had information we needed to understand,” the woman says.“Then she’s leaving,” Keaton replies.She lifts her folder slightly. “Mr. Vale, your client contacted a secure channel. We needed to close out the interview according to protocol.”Keaton keeps his voice even. “You c
(Maya)For one second, relief hits so hard I almost cry.He’s here. He’s alive. I did it.I step back from him. “Rhett—”His eyes lock on me. No warmth. No relief. No softness.Just anger held tight. “Don’t,” he says.“I was so scared you were dead.”“Right now, I’d prefer to be.”“Don’t say that. Tessa needs you.”“Yes, she does. And I went and left her when she needed me because of you.”“I… I’m sorry that happened… I never meant it to.”“No, you never do. You never mean to rain shit down on my life, but I still seem to take the hit anyway.”“I saved you,” I say. “I had to.”“You got me fired,” he repeats, flat. “The one thing I had left and now you’ve taken that away too.”“Rhett, why, why would they do that to you?” I don’t understand why they’d fire him.“I’m off the team,” he says. “I’m a security risk.”“But I told them you never told me anything.”“They pulled me. Said I’m compromised. Now they tell me your nightmares are a security breach. What a load of absolute bullshit.”M
(Maya)I don’t even know where they drive me. The windows are darkened and I can’t see anything outside.Now they lead me into a room, hands cuffed behind my back like some murderous criminal.A table. Two chairs. Camera in the corner. No window. No clock.They sit me down.A woman comes in last. Plain clothes. Clean posture. Calm face.She takes the chair across from me and sets a folder on the table.“Mrs. Vance,” she says. “May I call you Maya?““I much prefer it if you did. Can I get my hands free?”“Not yet. You contacted a secure channel.”“Cole Vance put me through. I didn’t know what number he called. I asked him to get me someone I could give information to.” I hold her gaze.“You used classified identifiers tied to an active operation,” she replies. “You used a code name and a location marker.”“I repeated what I heard.”“From whom,” she says.“I can’t tell you.”She pauses, “that is the wrong answer. We can keep you detained indefinitely until we get what we need. Or we can
(Maya)Lucy is in pre-op.She’s in the narrow hospital bed with the rails up, IV taped down, monitors blinking steadily. Her droopy eyes keep finding mine. Every time I move, she tracks me. Then they close fully.I stay right where I am. Hand on the rail. Body between her and the room.The anesthesiologist checks the chart. A nurse adjusts the line. No one rushes me. No one touches her yet.I keep waiting for someone to tell me this is officially starting. But I keep holding out for for one more minute.Then two men in suits are hovering outside. They are looking through the door glass at me.They don’t look at Lucy.They look at me.One side of the doors open and one man sticks his head in.“Mrs. Vance,” one of them says. “You need to come with us.”“No,” I say immediately. “My daughter is going into theatre. Who are you?”“You’re required elsewhere,” he replies.Dr. Nguyen turns slightly, professional, cautious. “This is pediatric pre-op.”The man flashes an ID. “Federal protective
(Maya)“Mrs. Vance,” the doctor says. “We are prepared to proceed today. We need consent forms signed.”The words hit hard. Today.The clipboard stays in his hand.I don’t reach for it.“But the committee already approved Lucy as a donor,” I say. “They cleared her. Why do we need to sign?”The hematologist nods. “They cleared her medically.”Dr. Nguyen steps in, calm and precise. “The committee decides eligibility. That doesn’t replace consent.”The hematologist adds, “nothing proceeds without parental consent.”“So even with approval,” I say, “this stops with me.”“Yes,” Dr. Nguyen says. “It stops with you. Mr Vance has already signed.”“And if you don’t consent,” the hematologist continues, “it goes to court. We don’t believe Owen will survive that delay.”I look at Owen.Asleep. Pale. Failing.Lucy is in my arms. Warm. Real.Cole stands near the door. Watching me. Waiting.Jade stands at the foot of Owen’s bed, hands folded, face soft. Great acting as usual.Cole’s voice is sharp.
(Maya)Let my voice fade away and focus on everything you feel and hear in that room…The hospital room I was in snaps into place.Jade is here. I hear her say Rhett is dead.“Almost time for your meds.’ She says cheerfully. “I hope you refuse to take them again. I love watching them force them down your throat.”I stare at her. I want to say I hate her. I want to choke the life out of her. But I can’t do anything except feel a tear roll down my cheek.Jade keeps talking, taunting me. “I must make sure there’s a whole new batch ready for you. Although you won’t be here that much longer. We are almost done with Lucy.”I try to move. My body doesn’t do what I tell it to do.The door opens.A nurse comes in with a paper cup and a small plastic medicine cup. “Time for your medication,” she says.Jade keeps talking, sweet and patient, the way she performs for anyone watching. “You want to get well and come back to your family, don’t you?”I clamp my lips tight. I turn my face away.The nur







