The morning came too fast.
Outside, the sky was still heavy with the pale gray of early dawn, but inside Westbridge, the world was already moving. The lights had returned to full intensity. Monitors beeped with renewed urgency. Someone down the hallway was laughing too loud, too light. The hospital was breathing again. But to Nora, it felt like it was choking.
She hadn't slept. Not really. She had closed her eyes for an hour two at most but her mind had never stopped pacing. Sleep wasn't a refuge anymore. Not when she knew he was here. Not when Arthur Brenner was walking these same halls, shaking hands, reviewing cases, slipping back into the system that had once let him kill without consequence.
She walked into the staff breakroom with the same practiced quiet she always used. The scent of coffee was thick in the air, masking exhaustion and tension. Attending physicians murmured over schedules. Interns compared notes, eyes still half-closed from lack of sleep.
Nora moved through it like vapor present, unnoticed.
That was the point.
To them, she was still just the new intern. Quiet. Focused. Too sharp to approach, too calm to question. No one suspected her of anything beyond ambition. And she kept it that way. Every smile was measured. Every response calculated. She was the scalpel under the glove. Hidden. Sharp. Waiting.
"Morning, Keane."
The voice broke through her silence. Nora turned to find Dr. Rowan Hayes leaning casually against the counter, holding two coffees. He handed one to her without asking how she took it. She accepted it with a nod, though she didn't drink it.
Rowan was a trauma resident. Smart. Charming. Observant too much so. He noticed things. Things Nora hadn't decided whether to let be seen.
Her gaze drifted past him to the whiteboard on the far wall. Assignments. Observations. Updates. A name was scrawled in red marker: Brenner.
"He's got the Cardio floor this morning," Rowan said, following her line of sight. "Post-op complications in 221. Guess he's feeling hands-on today."
Nora didn't let her expression shift. Not even slightly. "Maybe he's trying to be useful."
Rowan studied her for a moment longer than necessary. His eyes narrowed just enough to register curiosity. "You really don't like him, do you?"
She met his gaze, cool and even. "I don't know him."
A beat passed. Then Rowan smiled casual, disarming. "Fair enough."
But Nora caught it. That flicker behind his eyes. The puzzle-piece shift of someone starting to put something together. She made a mental note. Rowan wasn't a threat yet. But people who asked quiet questions were harder to silence. She would have to steer him, gently. Distract, not confront. Like guiding a scalpel around an artery. One wrong movement, and it would bleed.
The cardiology floor was colder than the others more metal, more silence, fewer smiles. Nora moved past the patient rooms like a shadow, her eyes already scanning every open chart, every monitor blinking quietly beside a bed.
She saw him before he saw her.
Arthur Brenner stood at the far end of the corridor, speaking with a nurse. His voice was low, casual. One hand rested on the counter beside her, close enough to feel intimate. His body leaned in just slightly. The smile on his face was soft, rehearsed. A performance.
Nora's fingers curled slightly at her sides.
It wasn't the flirtation that bothered her. It was the ease of it. The way he could still charm his way through a hospital. The way his past hadn't marked him. Hadn't slowed him. He had killed with negligence, and yet here he was respected, trusted, free.
Her jaw tightened.
But she didn't stop. Didn't speak. Just kept walking. She passed behind him, close enough to breathe the same air, and not once did he look back.
Not yet, she reminded herself.
Not like this.
In the chart room, the walls felt closer than usual. The light was dim, the air stale. Nora pulled a stool toward the back cabinet, careful not to draw attention. She didn't need a password. She knew where to look. Some things the system never bothered to hide they just buried them under disorganization and time.
She opened a drawer and slid her fingers between folders until she found it.
Case B-17.
It wasn't Lily's name. It never had been. Somewhere along the way, her sister had stopped being a person and become a file number. But Nora had traced the code back years ago. She knew what it meant. What it concealed.
She pulled the file out gently, flipped through its first pages. Her heart didn't race. Her hands didn't shake. But she felt something press against her ribs. Familiar. Sharp.
The original chart was long gone, of course. Destroyed. Hidden. But remnants survived follow-up notes, shift logs, timelines. On page four, she found it.
A delay in lab orders.
Then another in meds.
Different attending names. But the handwriting? It was the same across three separate entries.
Brenner's.
She knew it. She had studied it. Memorized the slant, the lean of the letters, the arrogance stitched into every stroke.
Her hand gripped the edge of the page. If she had been any less controlled, the paper might have torn.
She needed a copy. A record. Something she could keep outside this building outside their reach.
That was when a voice broke the silence.
"Looking for something?"
Nora turned, calm already settled across her features like frost.
Elias Blackthorn stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, expression unreadable. Not suspicion. Not yet. But something close. Something still deciding.
She didn't flinch.
"Reviewing archival inconsistencies," she said smoothly. "I like to understand the system's weak points."
He stepped inside. Slowly. Quietly. His eyes drifted to the folder in her hands, but only for a second long enough to see what she wanted him to see, and nothing more.
"That case is old," he said, voice low. "Ten years, maybe more."
"I know."
He looked at her differently then. Not like a colleague. Not like a superior assessing a promising intern. But like a man watching a fire he hadn't noticed start to burn under his own feet.
"You dig deep, Keane."
She didn't smile, but her voice shifted just slightly. "Better than digging wrong."
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was full of everything unsaid. Everything almost known.
Elias stepped back, but his eyes stayed on her. "Be careful," he said softly. "The system doesn't like being questioned."
Nora met his gaze.
"Neither do I."
He nodded once. Then he was gone.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, she turned back to the file. One last glance. One last confirmation. Then she snapped a picture, tucked the document back in its place, and slid her phone into her coat.
Every war left collateral.
This time, she wouldn't let it be buried.
Teaser – Chapter 5: Echoes in White
She wanted control, not connection.
But some allies don't ask permission.
And some enemies?
They leave paper trails.