Chapter 27 · The Man Behind the Curtain

The mic was still live.

Vivian heard her own breathing coming through the speakers mounted on the studio walls. Ragged. Too fast. The whole city was listening to her panic.

Vance lay on the floor between two overturned chairs. Blood spread dark across his shirt. His chest moved. Shallow. James stood over him with the gun still raised, knuckles white, eyes locked on the man like he might get up and run.

Roy was on his knees by the door. Two uniformed officers held his arms. He was laughing. High and broken. "You shot him," he said. "You shot the doctor. Now what? Now what?"

Silas stepped in front of Vivian. His hand found hers. Still there. Still warm. "We need to move," he said. Low. Just for her. "Your father—"

"I don't know what he needs." Her voice cracked. She hated how it sounded. Small. Lost. "Vance said a specific compound. I don't even know what it looks like."

James holstered the gun and crouched beside Vance. He pressed two fingers to the man's throat. "He's alive. Barely." He looked up at Vivian. His face was pale. "I called an ambulance. They're five minutes out."

"Five minutes," Vivian repeated.