Alexander Kane

The hospital’s ICU was a sterile cage, its beeps and whispers a cruel reminder of how fragile life was. Sofia lay propped on pillows, her silver hair a halo against the white sheets, her eyes sharp despite the tubes snaking into her arms. Elena sat at her bedside, clutching her mother’s hand like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the world. Marco hovered nearby, his hoodie torn, his laptop open on a rolling tray, fingers twitching over keys as he monitored FBI ...