Dorothea was still standing in the hallway, a tiny, spectral figure in the gloom.Avery walked over and scooped her up. The child’s skin was like ice; there was no telling how long she’d been rooted there."Sweetheart, why are you out of bed?"Dorothea didn't answer. She buried her face in the crook of Avery’s neck, her stuffed rabbit crushed between them."Mommy," she whispered. "He stopped."Avery paused, her heart skipping. "Who stopped?""The one who was counting."Avery carried her back, tucked her in, and pulled the duvet up to her chin. Dorothea blinked, clutching her rabbit, and after a long moment, her breathing finally leveled out into a fragile sleep.Avery sat on the edge of the bed, watching her daughter’s face. So small. So eerily quiet.Before the first rays of dawn could break, a sharp rap sounded at the door. It was Drake."Dr. St. Clair. We have a situation."She followed him into the hall. Drake’s jaw was set, his expression grim."The surveillance in the east wing
Last Updated : 2026-04-07 Read more