THEY DECLARED HER DEAD—THEN ORDERED HER CREMATED WHILE SHE WAS STILL ALIVE!

They found Nora beneath the river bridge, kneeling beside Maya on a tarp. The girl had taken off her own hoodie to cover her sister's legs. She kept telling Maya stories from when they were little, as if memory alone could keep her awake.

"Remember Dad's old truck?" Nora said. "The one with the seat that smelled like French fries? You said we'd fix it when we got money."

Maya's eyelids fluttered. "That truck was garbage."

"Yeah, but you promised."

Lena knelt and checked her. Her heartbeat was irregular, her breathing shallow. Whatever had been used to suppress her vital signs was still causing trouble.

"We're taking her to a doctor I trust," Cole said. "She runs a small clinic outside town. No hospital network."

Dr. Sofia Grant opened her side door without asking for a name. She took one look at Maya and cleared a room. For the first time since the morgue, the young woman had a monitor, warm blankets, and someone watching her who wasn't trying to erase her.

Nora gripped Lena's hand. "Is she going to die?"

"I don't know yet," Lena said. "But we're not leaving her alone."

The truth hurt to say. It also mattered.

In the clinic kitchen Nia spread the evidence across a table. The memory card showed patient transfers, but it didn't name the drug or identify who ordered each disposal. A jury would need original records and witnesses who could speak.

"The hospital has both," Nia said. "In B4."

"So does Vale," Cole replied.

"He has Ivy," Lena said. "That's why we go back."

Cole shook his head. "You can't walk into St. Agnes. There's a warrant with your face on it."

"Then I won't use the front door."

Lena shut off Maya's phone, but not before it connected to the clinic's Wi-Fi.

Nora watched them from the hallway. "Please don't make another promise you can't keep."

Lena crouched until they were eye to eye. "I can't promise I won't be scared. I can't promise we won't get hurt. But I can promise I won't stop trying."

Nora nodded, though her lower lip trembled.

Nia opened a scanned file she'd almost missed. Twelve death certificates carried the same doctor's authorization, even though the dates stretched back months before Lena joined St. Agnes.