They took my daughter.
My hands curl into fists. I force them open again because if I don’t, I’ll put my knuckles through the wall.
Nikolai comes back into view at the end of the hall, his expression tighter than before. He’s heard everything. He doesn’t comment. He just gives me a small nod that sayswe move now.
Maya chokes out, “Don’t you dare look at me like that. I didn’t want this. She didn’t want this.”
My voice is steady, but it takes effort. “I’m not angry that you kept her secret.”
Maya blinks, startled.
“I’m angry that someone took them,” I say. “And I’m angry I wasn’t here first.”
Her face crumples. “If you hurt her,” she whispers. “If you use this to trap her, to take Lily from her, I swear to God I’ll?—”
“You don’t have to threaten me,” I cut in. “Listen to me. I would never hurt Bella. And I’m not taking Lily away from her mother.”
Maya looks like she doesn’t believe anything anymore.
I step closer, just enough that she has to focus on me. “But I am going to get them back. Do you understand?”
She nods slowly, tears sliding down her face.
“Good,” I say. “Now tell me everything. Every detail. If she has family. If there’s anyone in this city she would run to besides you.”
Maya swallows hard. “Bella doesn’t have anyone else.”
I hold her gaze. “Then we find who took her.”
Nikolai’s voice cuts in, calm and clipped. “We should assume it wasn’t random.”
My stomach turns.
Maya whispers, almost to herself, “What kind of people break into an apartment in broad daylight for a woman and a toddler?”
I answer without softness. “The kind of people who know exactly what they’re doing.”
15
BELLA
The windows are tinted sodark they might as well be painted black. I can barely make out shapes outside, streetlights smearing into soft, pale streaks as we move. Every time I try to turn my head to look, a hand presses lightly but firmly between my shoulder blades, guiding me forward like I’m luggage.
Lily is in my lap, still hiccupping from crying. Her cheeks are sticky. Her small fingers clutch my shirt so hard it hurts.
“It’s okay,” I whisper into her hair, even though I don’t believe it. “It’s okay. Mama’s here.”
The older woman sits in the front passenger seat like she belongs there, posture straight, hands folded. The man who broke the door is in the driver’s seat. Another man is beside me in the back, not touching me now, but close enough that I can feel his heat.
Nobody speaks.
The silence is deliberate. It makes my thoughts louder.
I try my phone. No signal.
I look at Lily, then at the woman’s profile. Gray hair pulled back. Calm face. No wasted movement. She doesn’t look like someone who panics. She looks like someone who decides.
My throat tightens. “Where are you taking us?”
