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Once I’ve made the sample, I take it to Isaac. He seems to forget what’s inside the beaker as he hurries it into an incubator with his bare hands. “I have some good news and some bad news,” he says.
“Just tell me what you found.”
“I’ve found the girl you were with this morning.”
My gut fills with relief. “So, let’s go get her.”
“She was picked up by a gang of human traffickers.”
“Of course she was,” I say bitterly.
I’m angry she was on the truck. I’m angry with myself for letting her out of my sight, and I’m angry at the situation.
I can’t lose her. Especially when she thinks I don’t care.
