“There’s someone else outside the cabin.”

“A dark car just pulled up.”

“They’re walking toward the door.”

A loud crash sounded through the receiver, followed by a sharp scream.

The line went dead.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I stared at the black phone console, my blood running cold.

“Olivia!” I screamed, but there was only static.

“We have to go,” Samuel said, already grabbing his coat.

“Now.”

He reached for the binder, but as he did, the clinic door behind us clicked.

We all turned.

The heavy glass door was slowly swinging open.

A shadow fell across the threshold.

A man in a wet trench coat stepped into the lobby.

He was holding a manila envelope, his eyes scanning the room.

“Is Julian Morris here?” the man asked.

I stepped back, my hand instinctively reaching for Samuel’s arm.

The man closed the door behind him, locking it with a sharp click.

He looked at Margaret, then at me.

“I have a delivery for you,” he said.

“I am Julian Morris,” Julian said, his voice barely a whisper.

The courier didn’t look at the rest of us.