Vicky's laugh bounced off the hospital walls, thin and wrong, and the sound made the hair on my arms rise. A moment ago, she had been begging, crying, promising anything just to stay alive.
Now she was… calm. Almost purposeful.
That shift hit my instincts like a warning bite.
This wasn't the laugh of someone trying to survive.
This was the laugh of someone finishing a task.
"No," I breathed, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "This isn't right. Everyone—move. Get out now. It's a trap!"
Lewis's scent sharpened beside me, that quiet Alpha-pressure rolling off him as he scanned the room. He didn't waste time arguing. "Move fast," he said, voice low and clipped.
I didn't wait. I shoved him slightly—just enough to break the cluster around the bed—and I sprinted.
