Her voice is steady—but I can hear what it costs her to hold onto that word.
Truth.
People die for less.
“They’re not going to stop,” I tell her.
“I know.”
“They’ll escalate.”
“I know.”
“They’ll go through anyone who ever touched those files.”
That one hits.
I see it.
A flicker.
The hospital.
The analyst.
The cost.
Her grip tightens around the drive.
“I didn’t take this to expose them,” she says quietly.
I study her.
“Then why did you take it?”
A beat.
Then:
“Because someone had to remember.”
That—
That’s the moment everything shifts.
Not fear.
Not strategy.
Something deeper.
Something that doesn’t bend.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down the back of my neck.
“This isn’t something you can carry alone.”
“I wasn’t supposed to have to,” she says.
