Hailey

The words from the phone were still ringing in my ears as I sat in my small design studio at Wilson Corporation. Evans had stayed back at the house to handle the fallout of those devices, his voice sounding like it was coming from the bottom of a deep, dark well. Monitoring my body. Tracking my heart. The thought made my skin crawl with a thousand invisible legs. I tried to focus on the sketches in front of me, but the lines blurred into jagged peaks, looking like the heart rate monitors Nancy was hooked up to.

The office was mostly empty, the late evening sun casting long, orange...