Connecting.” Julian froze, the tip of the syringe hovering a hair’s breadth from the line into my arm.

And in the frozen silence that followed, the watch did the thing I had prayed, three days ago on a bloody rug, that it might one day do.

Chapter 10 — His Own Voice

From the watch’s speaker, at full volume, filling the pitch-black intensive care unit, the audio I had recorded three days earlier began to play.

Julian’s own voice, hollow with satisfaction, echoing off the walls of the room where he now stood with a syringe in his hand.

“She’s gone.