. The heart monitor flatlined with a long, final drone. She held her victorious pose for

nearby medical tray crashing to th

oom, her voice laced with feigned panic. "Somebody help!

past her, their faces grim.

pained gasp, and slid gracefully to the floor,

ualty. Lila was the priority, the fragile mother-to-be. A sharp cramp seized her abdom

awareness, a ghost in her own demise. She saw them

quickly across the screen. A message to Slade's assista

tal corridor twisting into a vortex of that final, hateful realization. Her consciousness was

ped her

of the clinic, but real, vibrant sunlight. She was in a hospital bed, but a different one.

on the bedside table. Beside it, a

year

resbyterian after the car crash that had left her with a mild concussion,

arks that had scarred her skin in another life. The hand of a twenty-

cold, exhilarating wave

se White. Seraphina remembered her. She remembered the gentle sm

erfully, holding up a syringe and a blood bag. "Tim

y, naively, become Lila's personal blood bank. The warmth i

ng desire for retribution, she swatted the nurse's hand. The syringe flew thro

gape, her kind face etched wit

nd cutting, "drawing blood from a patient without their explicit, written consent

ington was gone. In her place was a woman with eyes that looked like th

nistrators had been bought. She couldn

her voice a command th

aphina's fingers flew across the screen, dialing a number she knew by heart, a number from

Beau

er, a surge of pride and purpose. "Mr. Foster," she said,

of emotion. She was being held. They we

"inform my father. His heart isn't strong right now. Come here im

silence on the other end, then

dow at the New York City skyline, vibrant and al

ore than