Chapter 21 · Somebody Else's Hand on the Switch

"Danny." Levi's jaw ticks like the word costs him teeth. "My sister's kid. He used my creds to get backstage. That panel's his blood, not mine."

I don't move. I've got the tape still hanging half off his forearm from twenty minutes ago, gauze gone gray at the edge, and I just stand there letting that land.

"Say that again," I tell him. "Slower. For the camera."

"I'm not saying it again." He's already reaching past me for the tablet on the gurney rail, the one with the panel results glowing blue, D. GRANT — NEGATIVE stamped across the header like a joke somebody's about to pay for.

I get there first. My hand slaps flat over the screen before his fingers close, and for a second we're both gripping the same six inches of aluminum, knuckles white, breathing like we just went three rounds instead of standing in a cold room arguing about a kid neither of us can see.

"You don't touch this," I say.

"It's my family's name on federal paperwork, Ortega.