Silence. Then a strangled breath.
“Oh God.”
“Get to the south stairwell,” Ortiz shouted from the hall. “Now!”
We moved.
Alan had only made it about thirty yards before security and officers cornered him near the nurses’ station. He was on the floor in handcuffs by the time we reached the stairwell.
Daniel burst in from below—bruised, shaken, but alive.
The moment Emily saw him, she broke.
Not from fear.
From relief.
He crossed the landing and dropped to his knees in front of her. He didn’t touch her until she nodded. Then he held her as if she might vanish.
“I thought you believed him,” he said.
“I did,” she whispered. “Until he tried to kill me.”
Ortiz took the flash drive and looked at all three of us. “This is enough. Names, payments, trial data, kickbacks. Mercer’s finished. And if this matches what Daniel already gave us, VasCor is finished too.”
