They went out completely, plunging us into total darkness.

Then, my cell phone, which was sitting in my jacket pocket, began to vibrate against my hip.

The screen lit up, casting a pale blue glow over the concrete floor.

It was an unknown number.

I pulled the phone out and swiped the screen.

“Lauren,” a voice said.

It was not Giovanni.

It was Marla Hensley.

“Lauren,” Marla Hensley said again.

Her voice sounded thin and strained.

I could hear a strange, rhythmic clicking sound in the background of her call.

“Marla, why are you calling me?” I whispered, keeping my voice as low as possible.

“You need to listen to me,” she said, her breath catching. “They came to the hospital.”

“Who came?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Vance’s men,” she said. “They had weapons, Lauren. They took the security logs.”

Another explosion rumbled through the ceiling above us.

Dust drifted down from the concrete seams of the bunker, coating my face in a fine, chalky powder.

“They know Dr. Sullivan took Luca,” Marla said, her voice trembling. “They know about the private transport.”