The flashlight beam shook in his hand.

I backed against the cold stone console, my fingers tight around the key.

Then, red and blue lights flashed against the high windows of the clinic above us.

The shrill wail of sirens cut through the damp air.

Ana Brennan stepped out from the shadows behind Mark, accompanied by three armed federal agents.

“Drop the wrench, Vale,” Ana said, her voice calm and steady.

Mark turned, his eyes wide with sudden realization.

The agents moved past him, their boots heavy on the wet concrete.

They cuffed Mark first, then Vale, pulling them back into the corridor.

I sank against the wall, my phone still warm in my palm.

The data transfer was complete.

Three months later, the courtroom in Sacramento was quiet.

Mark, Yasmin, and Dr. Vale sat at the defense table in orange jumpsuits.

The judge read the verdicts one by one.

Conspiracy, fraud, grand theft, and involuntary confinement.

The judge sentenced them all to consecutive federal prison terms.

Gillian sat alone in the gallery, staring at her shoes.

After the court adjourned, Ana and I sat in her law office in Fremont.