Miguel's POV
Diego lay motionless on the medical bed, I paced the room, my fists clenching and unclenching. Maria sat beside Diego, holding his hand tightly. Dr. Andrew stayed nearby, his gaze flicking between the monitors and the faint tremor in Diego's fingers.
"The sedative is working," Andrew said. "But the strain on his neural pathways was significant. He'll need rest and careful monitoring."
Diego stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. His voice came out hoarse.
"Everything feels… broken," he murmured. "Like I'm trying to piece together a puzzle, but half the pieces are missing."
Maria leaned closer. "Do you remember anything? Anything at all?"
"There was… a warehouse. By the river. They took me there before the facility. And… files. Evidence." His gaze shifted to me. "It's all there, Miguel. Everything we need to take them down."
I stopped pacing. "Where exactly is this warehouse?"
Maria shot me a warning look. "Miguel, he needs rest. We can't—"
