A live video feed of the clinic’s basement office appeared.

The safe was open.

But it wasn’t Vale who was standing in front of it.

The camera zoomed in on the figure holding the files.

The light caught the person’s face.

My breath caught in my throat.

The transfer hit ninety-nine percent.

And then, the power to the entire console cut out.

The screens went black.

The room plunged into total darkness once more.

And the iron door behind us finally gave way, swinging open with a deafening crash.

The cold wind of the tunnel rushed into the room.

The shadow stood in the doorway, the light from their flashlight blinding us.

“Game over, Alana,” the voice said.

I stood in the dark, the key still clutched in my hand, staring into the bright light.

The final truth was standing right in front of me.

And the screen of my phone lit up one last time in my pocket, displaying a single, terrifying word.

“Run.”

Mark stepped into the room, his face twisted in a grin.

“You should have left the files alone, Alana,” he said.