“This is science, my dear,” he said, tapping the side of the syringe. “This is how we save millions.”

“By killing one?” I asked.

“By perfecting the cure,” he replied.

Outside in the hallway, the sound of the struggle stopped.

A heavy silence fell over the corridor, save for the wailing siren.

Then, a phone on the changing table began to light up.

The screen flashed with an incoming call from an unknown number.

The caller ID showed a single word: *Alpha*.

Halloran froze, his eyes shifting to the glowing screen.

I reached for the heavy silver lamp on the table.

My fingers wrapped around the cold, heavy base of the silver lamp.

The metal was solid and icy against my palm.

Julian’s eyes remained fixed on the glowing screen of the phone.

The word *Alpha* pulsed in bright blue light, illuminating the sharp angles of his face.

“Answer it,” I whispered, tightening my grip on the lamp.

He didn’t move.

His gloved hand remained suspended over the crib, the needle steady.

“You don’t want to keep them waiting, Julian,” a weak voice said from the doorway.