Angela Pierce, the night nurse, sat slumped over, her head resting against her shoulder.

Her breathing was slow and heavy, a faint trail of drool at the corner of her mouth.

An empty plastic cup sat on the side table beside her, smelling faintly of bitter almonds.

“She won’t wake up,” I said. “I tried shaking her before I took Leo from the crib.”

Lorenzo strode over to her, pressing two fingers to the side of her neck.

“Her pulse is sluggish,” he said. “She’s been drugged.”

An abrupt, metallic clack echoed through the room.

The heavy security bolts of the nursery door slid into place with a definitive thud.

Lorenzo spun around, dropping his gun into his coat pocket and grabbing the brass handle.

He pulled, but the reinforced door did not budge.

The digital keypad on the wall blinked from a steady green to a flashing, angry red.

“Locked,” Lorenzo growled, throwing his shoulder against the solid wood.

“The master security override,” I said, holding Leo tighter. “Only Mrs. Bellamy has the code for this wing.”

“Bellamy wouldn’t do this,” Lorenzo said, though his eyes showed doubt.

A low hum vibrated through the floorboards as the ventilation system hissed to a stop.

The air in the room instantly felt heavier, warmer.

“They are trying to keep us in here,” I said, looking at Angela’s limp form.

Leo finished nursing and let go, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he fell into a deep sleep.

I fastened my uniform with one hand, cradling the baby against my shoulder.

Lorenzo searched his pockets for his phone, pulling it out only to stare at the screen.

“No signal,” he said. “The jammer in the hall is active.”

We were trapped in a reinforced fortress of his own making.

Then, a soft scrape sounded at the bottom of the door.