Chapter 7 · The Witness Who Wouldn't Die

"He's already dead." Mina's voice came flat, final, like she'd already written the report.

Jace shoved past her into the med bay. The witness was strapped to a gurney, chest rising in shallow jerks, face so pale the veins showed through like ink under rice paper. Monitors beeped slow and arrhythmic. The air smelled like disinfectant and something sour underneath.

"Doesn't look dead to me," Jace said.

Mina didn't follow him in. She stayed in the doorway, arms crossed, shoulders tight. "He's got maybe an hour. Two if he's stubborn."

"Then we've got two hours." Jace moved to the gurney. The witness's eyes tracked him, sluggish but aware. "Who ordered the transfer? Who moved you out of the main ward?"

The man's lips cracked open. No sound came out.

"Don't," Mina said behind him. "He can't answer. His trachea's compromised."

"Compromised how?"

"Crushed. Probably during extraction."

Jace turned on her. "You extracted him."

"I stabilized him. Someone else pulled him out of the tower perimeter."

"Who?"

She didn't answer. Her jaw set, that same look she'd had when he'd cornered her about his own missing past.