Dr. Aldrich turned toward the media, his expression unreadable, but I could feel the tension in him. His face was calm, yes, but it held a firm seriousness, a kind of protective rage that simmered just beneath the surface. His grip on my arm tightened—not painfully, but protectively. He was trying to shield me from the cruelty, from the flashing lights, and from the merciless words.

Then he opened his mouth, clearly about to speak—to defend me, to stop this madness—

But a sharp sound echoed in the background, disrupting the mood.

wee-woo! wee-woo!

Every head turned in the direction the sound was coming from.

Police sirens cut through the...