“You are still recovering,” Margaret said, her brow furrowed. “You can barely stand.”

“I will stand,” I said.

“I will not let him think he succeeded.”

“He took my children’s safety and used it as a bargaining chip.”

“He left me to die in this bed.”

“I will be there, Margaret.”

Margaret looked at me for a long moment.

The rain outside seemed to slacken, turning into a steady, rhythmic patter against the double-paned glass.

“Then we need to prepare,” she said.

“I will have a car ready at seven in the morning.”

“The medical staff will object, but I will sign the temporary release forms.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Do not thank me yet,” Margaret said. “Grant is a cornered animal.”

“He will try to find a way to stop us before we reach that building.”

“He still has the security team under his payroll.”

“We must be careful.”

She stood up and closed her briefcase.

“Rest now,” she said.

“You will need your strength for what comes tomorrow.”

She walked to the door, paused, and looked back at me.