DANNY POV

Chloe goes slack in my arms.

Not limp. Not broken. Stolen. One second she’s defiant, breathing steady and sharp; the next, her knees buckle and her chest shudders like someone flipped a switch inside her. The cold chemical haze in the audit wing hits me a second later—metallic, biting—but I cover my mouth with my collar, tighten my grip, and move.

Not thinking. Not planning. Extract. Secure. Retaliate.

The intercom behind us clicks once, smug in its silence. I don’t look ...