These are more ofthem. The accents are unmistakable—hard consonants, clipped vowels, the same cadence as the man who tried to grab us earlier.
Cold dread spreads through me, heavy as lead.
Whoever these men are they’re not here to save us. They’re here because someone sent them.
One of them lowers his rifle just slightly when he sees us. “Clear!” he calls, then into a mic, “Target secured. Conti’s daughter is here, unharmed.”
Relief hits me so hard it’s almost worse than the fear. My knees give out, and I sink to the floor, the adrenaline draining out of me all at once. The room tilts, edges blurring.
Sienna is suddenly there, hands on my shoulders, her face streaked with tears. She’s crying, silent and shaking, and I wrap my arms around her, holding on as tight as I can.
“It’s over,” I whisper, though the words taste like a lie. “We’re safe.”
The world narrows, sound fading until all I can hear is my heartbeat, which is getting slower by the second.
And then everything goes dark.
2
Lorenzo
“Where is she?” I bark as I stride into the emergency room, my voice carrying through the sterile white space. Nurses glance up from their stations, startled by my tone, but I don’t slow down. “Where’s my daughter?”
“Dad!”
The sound of her voice cuts through the noise like a knife. I turn just in time to see Sienna rushing toward me, her face pale, eyes red from crying. I close the distance in three long steps and pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I can.
“Baby,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you hurt?”
I lean back to look her over. To make sure with my own eyes that she’s fine. She’s wearing a black dress and has a white blanket draped over her shoulders. I don’t miss the dried blood on her cheek and her hands.
She shakes her head. “I’m not hurt. But Birdie…” Her voice cracks, trembling like glass. “They won’t tell me how Birdie is.”
It takes a second for the name to register. Her roommate. The one my men pulled out of that blood-soaked apartment. The one who saved my only child.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I tell her, though I don’t know if that’s true. I just need her calm. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you home.”
Sienna jerks back, eyes flashing with that same stubbornness she’s had since she was little. “Dad, no. We need to find out how Birdie is!”
For a moment, I just stare at her—my little girl, covered in someone else’s blood, demanding answers like she doesn’t realize what kind of world she’s stepped into. A world I’ve protected her from her entire life.
I sigh, jaw tight. “Alright,” I say, my voice low. “We’ll find out.”
Then I turn toward the nearest nurse’s station, my tone snapping like a whip. “I need an update. Now.”
The nurse freezes, eyes wide behind her glasses. “Patient’s name?”
I glance at Sienna.
“Elizabeth Miller,” she says quickly.
The nurse’s fingers hover over the keyboard. “Are you family?”
I meet her gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her uncomfortable. “We are.”
Her mouth opens like she wants to argue but something in my expression must convince her otherwise. She swallows and starts typing.
“She’s in room three,” she says finally. “I’ll see if she’s up for a visitor.”
