Brooke takes a step back. No. This isn’t real.

—How…? —Her voice dies in her throat.

Carter’s smile is slow, calculated.

—I don’t ask questions, nurse. I just enjoy the answers.

Before she can move, the infirmary door swings open and a guard steps inside.

Carter smoothly slips the key into his pocket.

—Time to go back to your cell, Carter —the guard grunts.

Carter doesn’t argue. He just gives Brooke one last look.

—See you soon, Brooke.

A cold shiver snakes up her spine. He knows.

That night, in her apartment, every shadow seems longer.

She locks every window. Braces the door with a chair. Sits on the bed, trembling.

She can’t stay here.

She grabs her phone and dials.

—Dorothy, I need to talk to you.

Dorothy sighs on the other end.

—Not over the phone. Meet me in my office before your shift.

Brooke barely sleeps.