“What is that code?” Malachi asked, looking up at me.

I leaned over the center pedestal, my eyes scanning the hand-drawn page in the binder.

At the very bottom, written in thick red ink by the hand of the legendary Captain Brooks, was a warning note.

*In case of duct contamination, avoid any standard chemical stimulants containing compound CX-442. It acts as an accelerant to the toxin, causing immediate respiratory arrest.*

My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked from the binder back to the syringe in Thorne’s hand.

“Dr. Thorne,” I said, my hand instinctively reaching for the doctor’s wrist.

“This is a standard medical procedure, Grace,” Thorne said, his grip tightening on the syringe.

“Let me see the vial,” I said.

The doctor did not move his hand, but his eyes locked onto mine, his expression suddenly losing all of its warmth.

The needle was only inches from Danny Cole’s exposed skin.

Behind us, a red warning light began to flash on the overhead panel, casting a rhythmic crimson glow over the entire cockpit.

“Step back, Grace,” Thorne said.

His voice was too calm.