Damon threw his arm in front of me, pressing me back against the cold steel of the terminal desk.

His other hand slipped inside his jacket, his fingers wrapping around the grip of his weapon.

I held my breath, my eyes locked on the digital keypad beside the door frame.

The small LED screen on the wall flashed a rapid sequence of amber lights.

“The code,” I whispered, my voice barely carrying over the hum of the cooling fans. “Damon, look at the code on the screen.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the door. “I see it, Nora.”

“No, you don’t understand,” I said, grabbing his forearm. “That bypass prefix isn’t a military or corporate sequence.”

The keypad gave a sharp, high-pitched chime.

“It’s from the Saint Jude’s private donor registry,” I said. “The exact medical network that handled my pregnancy.”

Damon’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek as he processed my words. “That’s impossible.”

“I saw that prefix on every single one of my prenatal charts,” I insisted. “SYS_MED_99X was the clearance code Dr. Elaine Brooks used.”