Chapter 93

• CHRISTIAN
• The station smelled like stale coffee, sweat, and disinfectant. I could hear my father pacing behind me, his dress shoes ticking against the linoleum. He was on the phone—again—trying to reach Governor Nylander, his voice low and tight.
• Across the lobby, Lucas was sitting on the edge of a plastic chair, phone pressed to his ear, scrolling through contacts with the kind of precision that suggested blood was in the water.