LOGINThe door burst open with enough force to rattle the whole room, officers flooding in fast and coordinated, shouting instructions I could barely process through the roar of my own pulse."Police! Drop the weapon! Hands where we can see them!"Sabrina spun toward them, gun swinging wildly, panic overtaking whatever cold calculation had steadied her only moments before."Stay back," she said, voice cracking, gun trembling badly now in her grip. "Stay back, I mean it, I'll—""Put it down," the lead officer said, steady, careful, hands raised in the universal gesture of someone trying to de-escalate a situation teetering on the edge of catastrophe. "No one has to get hurt. Put the weapon down."I pressed myself back against the wall, hand cradling my stomach, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat, watching Sabrina's face cycle through panic and defiance and something close to despair, the gun never quite lowering, never quite steadying either."Sabrina." My own voice, hoarse
Damian's POVThe message arrived while I was standing outside the empty warehouse, staring at nothing, trying to force my mind into something useful instead of the useless, circling panic it kept sliding back toward.Unknown number. An encrypted app I didn't recognize, the kind built specifically to resist tracing.I opened it without thinking, and the floor dropped out from under me completely.Brielle, pale and frightened, backed against a wall I didn't recognize, one hand pressed protectively over her stomach, eyes wide with a fear I had never once seen on her face, not even the night of the fire, not even the office confrontation months ago.Beneath the photo, a single line of text.She's not doing well. The stress isn't good for the baby. You have exactly as long as it takes you to find us before that stops being an exaggeration.Something in my chest cracked open completely, a sound I felt rather than heard, and for one terrible, suspended second I couldn't move, couldn't breath
The second location was smaller than the warehouse, a cramped, dusty office above what looked like an abandoned auto shop, one flickering fluorescent light overhead and a single, grimy window too high to reach.Sabrina had moved us the moment the sound of approaching sirens reached her, hustling me back into the car with an urgency that told me, even in my panic, that she'd anticipated this exact possibility, had a second location already chosen, a contingency built into whatever fractured plan she was operating from.That frightened me more than almost anything else. A woman improvising out of desperation was dangerous. A woman who'd planned this carefully enough to have a backup location was something else entirely."Sit," she said, gesturing to an old metal folding chair in the corner, gun still steady in her other hand though her arm had started to tremble slightly, exhaustion or adrenaline or both wearing through wh
Damian's POVRosa's voice, when Cassian patched the call through to my phone, didn't sound like Rosa at all."She took her." The words came fast, ragged, barely coherent. "Sabrina took her, Damian, I saw the car pull away, I couldn't get there in time, I couldn't—""Slow down." My own voice came out steadier than I felt, some old, cold instinct taking over, the part of me that had learned long ago to function through crisis rather than beneath it. "Tell me exactly what you saw.""Dark sedan. The same one from outside the apartment. She had Brielle by the arm, pushing her toward the back door. I was too far away, I didn't get there in time, I'm so sorry, I should have come back sooner—""This isn't your fault." I was already moving, phone pressed to my ear, shrugging into my jacket, shouting for Cassian before I'd fully processed the words leaving my own
I stayed late at the bakery three days after the photograph arrived, longer than I should have, longer than Damian would have wanted if he'd known, finishing inventory for the following week while Rosa ran an errand and the new security guard Damian had hired took what he swore was a five-minute bathroom break.I didn't notice the front door chime until it was already too late to pretend I hadn't heard it."We're closed," I called, not looking up from the clipboard. "Sorry, the sign should say—""I know it's closed," Sabrina said. "That's rather the point."My whole body went cold.She stood just inside the doorway, hair less immaculate than I remembered, something unraveled and brittle in her expression that hadn't been there at that dinner months ago. The composed, calculating woman I'd faced across Margot's table was gone, replaced by someone who looked like she'd been running
Cassian arrived before nine the next morning, tablet in hand, expression carefully neutral in the way I'd learned to recognize as him bracing us for something. But this time, at least, Damian pulled out the chair beside me instead of asking me to wait in another room, and something in that small, deliberate choice settled a fraction of the dread sitting in my chest. "The car was a rental," Cassian said, sliding the tablet across the counter. "Registered under a name that traces back through two shell accounts to Sabrina Belcourt. Same structure as the fire investigation shell company, actually. She's gotten more careful, but not careful enough." I stared at the timestamp on the screen, the plate number, the grainy security footage of the same dark, unremarkable car I'd watched from the nursery window two nights ago. "She's here," I said quietly. "In the city." "She's here," Cassian confirmed. "Flight records show she landed eleven days ago. No customs flag, nothing that would have







