There's a knock on the door. "You okay?" It's Marc's voice.
I don't answer right away. My throat feels tight.
The door opens. Marc stands in the doorway, his expression cautious. "Sela?"
"Got a voicemail from Palmer Regional HR," I say. "Missed my shift without notice. They're terminating me if I don't contact them within twenty-four hours." I look up at him. "So there goes my new job."
He steps into the room, leans against the dresser. "We'll figure it out. Rhys will contact them, explain things. They'll understand."
"Maybe."
"Probably not," he admits. "But you'll be alive to find another job. That's what matters."
He's right. I know he's right. It still sucks.
He straightens from the dresser. "Get some rest if you can. I'll be out there if you need anything." He heads for the door, then pauses. "You did the right thing, Sela. Finding that drive. Calling it in. Don't let them make you regret doing what's right."
Then he's gone, closing the door quietly behind him.
I unpack Harlow's duffel. There are jeans, thermal shirts, a heavy jacket, and hiking boots. All of it is practical and borrowed. Nothing belongs to me.
My life, reduced to a borrowed duffel bag in a cabin I've never seen, with a man I met hours ago.
The door opens. Marc's holding the radio. His expression is different now, tight and focused.
"Sela."
"Cara just called," he says. "She cracked the first layer of encryption on Emma's drive."
My pulse kicks. "What did she find?"
"Surveillance photos. FBI Agent Lyle Haywood meeting with Julian Montrose. Multiple meetings over years. Emma documented everything." His jaw tightens. "Harlow identified him from the photos—he's been on the trafficking task force's suspect list."
The room tilts. An FBI agent was meeting with a trafficker. Emma had proof.
"That's what got her killed," I say.
"Yeah." Marc's jaw tightens. "And now we know why The Marshal wants that drive back so badly. Because Emma didn't just find evidence of trafficking. She found evidence of federal corruption at the highest level."
"What do we do?"
"We stay alive." He hands me the radio. "And we wait for Cara to decrypt the rest. Because if Haywood is on that drive, there might be others. And if there are others, this goes deeper than anyone thought."
The radio crackles in my hand with static and distance. I feel the weight of what we're holding.
A woman died for this. A fellow nurse. She died to document proof that the people supposed to protect victims were the ones enabling their exploitation.
Now I'm the one holding that proof; now I'm the one they want dead.
Marc's watching me, waiting to see if I'm going to panic or if I'm going to break. I don't break.
"Then we wait," I say. "And we make sure Emma's evidence doesn't die with us."
He nods just once. It might be approval or respect.
"Get some rest," he says. "I'll take first watch. We've got a long few days ahead."
He closes the door. I hear him moving around in the main room, checking windows, testing locks, doing what he does.
