I fell to my hands and knees on the hard floor, coughing.

Through the haze, I saw Lorenzo’s fists rising and falling, striking Evan with brutal, rhythmic force.

Evan groaned, his gun sliding away across the dusty floor.

“Where is the bottle?” Lorenzo roared, pinning Evan’s shoulders to the ground. “What did he give him?”

Evan’s face was already swelling, blood leaking from his nose.

“It’s… it’s in the bag,” Evan wheezed, pointing a trembling finger toward the nursery. “Julian has the vial.”

I scrambled to my feet, my knees scraping against the rough floor.

The nursery door was slightly ajar.

The red light flickered inside, casting long, monstrous shadows across the walls.

I pushed the door open.

The smell of antiseptic and copper met me.

Dr. Julian Halloran was standing over the crib, his back to me.

He held a silver syringe in his gloved hand.

The liquid inside was a thick, milky white.

“Julian,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He didn’t turn around.

“He’s ready, Hunter,” Halloran said, his voice eerily calm.

“Don’t do it,” I said, taking a step toward the crib.