Anna's POV:

The tea station is the quietest room on the floor at this hour.

I fill the kettle with more deliberateness than the task requires. My hands have almost stopped shaking — the residual tremor of adrenaline rather than anything more serious. I breathe through my nose and let the room be small and entirely mine for a moment.

'He wasn't wrong,' Nicole says. Careful. 'He saw something he couldn't contextualize. He ...