The antiseptic air of the hospital room was suffocating, thick with the scent of bleach and broken dreams. Clara sat on the edge of the stiff, plastic-covered bed, her shoulders shaking with the kind of primal, hollow grief that only a mother knows. She had been told her newborn daughter was gone—a tragic, unexplained complication.

The sparks from the shattered breaker ignited the alcohol. A massive wall of fire erupted between Sarah and the corrupt doctor.

Thorne screamed, dropping her gun as the flames caught the edge of her pristine white coat. The hospital's fire alarms instantly blared, deafening and chaotic. Sprinklers engaged, raining freezing water down on the server room.

Sarah didn't wait to watch Thorne burn. She shoved the USB drive into her pocket and sprinted for the stairwell.

Chaos had consumed the hospital. The alarms masked the sound of her footsteps. Private security guards were scrambling, completely disorganized by the sudden fire in their secret command center.

Sarah burst through the heavy fire doors of the underground garage.

Cole’s truck was revving. But standing between Sarah and the truck was the towering, hulking head of Thorne’s security team. He raised his weapon.

Before he could pull the trigger, the matte-black truck surged forward. Cole slammed the vehicle directly into the guard, pinning him against a concrete pillar.