and outmatched. He took two steps backward toward the sliding doors of the parking garage. “You’re going to regret this, Hannah,” he said. “Both of you.” He turned and walked quickly through the doors, the cold night air rushing into the warm hallway as they slid open. I leaned against the wall, my knees feeling like water. My father caught me under my elbow, supporting my weight. “He’s gone, sweetheart,” he said softly. “For now,” I said. “But he was so angry, Dad. What if he tries to get to Owen through the hospital staff?” “He won’t,” my father said. “I’ve already contacted the head of hospital security. They are locking down the floor.” We stood there for a moment in the quiet hallway. The hum of the vending machines seemed incredibly loud. I looked down at my hand, still clutching my phone. Suddenly, the screen lit up again. It wasn’t a text from Ethan. It was an unknown number. The message was a short video file. My thumb hovered over the play button, my heart hammering against my ribs. I pressed play. The video was dark, shaky, and shot from inside a moving car. The camera panned down to show a small, white hospital blanket. In the corner of the frame was a tiny, moving hand. The video ended.