Chapter 19 · Twelve Hours Left

I don't sleep.

Ethan's on the couch in the living room. I can hear him breathing—slow, controlled, like he's counting each one. The silver's still in his system. I know because every few minutes there's this pause, this hitch, like his body's fighting itself.

I'm at the kitchen table with my laptop and three energy drinks I found in the back of the fridge. Viktor's flash drive is plugged in. The file structure's a mess—folders inside folders, dates that don't match, encryption I can't crack without help I don't have.

But there's one folder that's just labeled "MS."

Mara Santos.

I click it open.

Twenty-three video files. The oldest is dated four months ago. The newest is from yesterday.

Yesterday.

My hand's shaking so bad I have to set the energy drink down before I spill it. I click the first file.

It's security footage. Black and white, timestamp in the corner. A cell—concrete walls, steel door, one cot bolted to the floor. There's a woman curled on her side facing away from the camera.

I know that haircut. I was there when she got it. June, right before everything went wrong. She'd laughed and said she needed a change.