Hospitals were supposed to feel safe.
Sarah didn't feel safe.
The room was bright during the day, sterile and controlled. Machines beeped softly beside her bed. Nurses checked her vitals every few hours. Doctors asked careful questions in measured tones.
But every time the door opened—
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
Every footstep in the hallway made her flinch.
Every male voice outside the curtain made her breathing spike.
She hadn't slept more than two hours at a time since the rescue.
When she did sleep, she woke gasping.
The first night, she had bolted upright, screaming when a nurse tried to adjust her IV.
"It's okay," Molly whispered again and again, climbing into the hospital bed beside her sister despite the narrow space.
"I'm here. I'm right here."
Sarah clung to her like she had when they were children.
"I thought he was coming back," she whispered hoarsely.
"He's not," Molly said quickly.
But her voice wasn't steady.
Because he had come back.
For someone else.
The doctors cleared Sarah physically within forty-eight hours.
Minor bruising.
Dehydration.
Weight loss.
Superficial rope abrasions.
Nothing permanent.
But psychologically—
That was different.
A trauma specialist visited on the second day.
"Flashbacks?" she asked gently.
"Yes."
"Hypervigilance?"
Sarah nodded.
"Nightmares?"
Every time.
Molly never left her side.
Not for food.
Not for rest.
Not for air.
She slept in the visitor's chair.
Held Sarah's hand during interviews.
Answered questions when Sarah's voice shook too much to continue.
Family was notified the first night.
Their parents drove down immediately.
When they walked into the hospital room—
Their mother broke down instantly.
Their father stood frozen at the foot of the bed, staring at Sarah as if she might disappear again.
"You're home," her mother whispered through tears.
"Not yet," Sarah said softly.
But she understood what they meant.
Alive.
She was alive.
Plans began quietly.
Once cleared, they would all return to Carbondale together.
Back home.
Back to school.
Back to something resembling normal.
Sarah clung to that thought obsessively.
"I just want to sit in class again," she said on the third afternoon. "Complain about homework. See Claire. Eat bad cafeteria food."
Molly smiled faintly.
"You will."
"I want to forget this."
Molly squeezed her hand.
"You don't have to forget. Just move forward."
But even as she said it, Molly felt distance growing elsewhere.
Across state lines, the manhunt expanded.
Missouri.
Arkansas.
Illinois.
Tennessee.
Jack had abandoned the stolen vehicle twelve hours after the carjacking.
The young woman had been found bound but alive in a roadside drainage culvert.
Terrified.
Unharmed physically.
Mentally shaken.
"He kept calling me the wrong name," she told investigators.
Brian listened to the recording later that night.
"He kept saying 'Sarah'… and then correcting himself."
Jack wasn't stable anymore.
He wasn't careful.
He wasn't precise.
He was unraveling.
And unraveling men were unpredictable.
Roadblocks were established.
Facial recognition alerts activated.
Surveillance footage scanned.
But Jack knew the procedure.
He avoided highways.
Stayed rural.
Moved erratically.
He wasn't hiding.
He was drifting.
And that made him harder to predict.
Internal Affairs requested Brian's presence the morning of the fourth day.
The room was small.
Windowless.
Formal.
Two investigators sat across from him.
"We've received notice of your personal involvement with the victim's sister," one said calmly.
"I've maintained professional boundaries," Brian replied evenly.
"You were seen at her residence."
"Yes."
"Without federal escort."
"I was delivering updates."
"You stayed."
Brian's jaw tightened slightly.
"For minutes."
"There are reports you allowed her near the active perimeter."
"She was escorted."
"You denied involvement when asked by your Captain."
"Because there is none relevant to the case."
The investigator studied him carefully.
"Are you emotionally compromised?"
"No."
"Are you romantically involved with Molly Johnson?"
Brian's face remained unreadable.
"No."
It was technically true.
They had kissed.
They had crossed a line.
But not officially.
Not formally.
And admitting anything now would remove him from the hunt.
The investigator leaned back.
"Your judgment is under scrutiny."
"My judgment secured the victim alive."
Silence followed.
He was dismissed an hour later with a warning.
"Maintain distance," they said.
He nodded.
But the damage was already spreading.
Molly hadn't meant to overhear again.
But she did.
Brian's voice outside the hospital room was lower, controlled.
"No," he said clearly. "There is no involvement."
The words hit differently this time.
Not sharp.
Not shocking.
Just confirming.
She stepped back before he entered the room.
When he walked in moments later, she was seated calmly beside Sarah, reading discharge paperwork.
"How are you?" he asked gently.
"Fine," she said without looking up.
Sarah glanced between them.
Something had shifted.
Brian felt it instantly.
"I have updates," he said.
"About him?" Sarah asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Is he close?"
"We don't believe so."
Molly stood.
"I'm getting coffee."
"You want me to—" Brian started.
"No," she said quickly.
Too quickly.
She left the room before he could finish.
In the hallway, she leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly.
No tears this time.
Just withdrawal.
If he needed distance—
She would give it to him.
Back inside the room, Sarah studied Brian carefully.
"You hurt her," she said softly.
Brian looked at her.
"I didn't mean to."
"She's been holding everything together."
"I know."
"She thought she had you."
He didn't respond.
Because that was the problem.
He couldn't be hers.
Not while Jack was still out there.
That night, Sarah had another nightmare.
This time, she didn't scream.
She froze.
Silent.
Shaking.
Eyes wide open.
Molly woke instantly.
"You're safe," she whispered.
Sarah nodded faintly.
"I know."
But knowing didn't stop the fear.
Knowing didn't erase the smell of pine.
The sound of boots on wood.
The feeling of someone breathing beside her.
"I just want to go home," she whispered.
"We will."
"Promise?"
"Yes."
Outside, Brian stood in the parking lot staring at the hospital building.
He had secured her.
He had failed to secure him.
And now—
Internal Affairs was watching.
Molly was pulling away.
Sarah was healing.
And Jack was somewhere in the dark.
Not calculating.
Not strategic.
But unstable.
Which made him more dangerous than ever.
Because this time—
He had nothing left to protect.
Only something left to prove.