The Killing Antidote -

She took the stairs instead of the elevator, counting steps to quiet her mind. By floor twelve, her hands were trembling. Not from fear—from the absence of it. For the first time, she imagined Voss not as a silhouette on a dossier but as a person. A man who might have a daughter. Who might cry.

She slammed her palm against the bathroom tile. The crack echoed like a gunshot. The Killing Antidote

It saved the mirror.

The Killing Antidote didn’t save the monster. She took the stairs instead of the elevator,