The realization that the life growing inside me—created in love with Ruslan—had been destroyed before I even knew its gender.
Twice.
Silent sobs shook my shoulders, but I refused to make noise.
I refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing me break.
“I can’t die here,” I whispered to myself.
The words were weak—but I clung to them anyway.
“Daphne needs me.”
My daughter’s face flashed in my mind.
Her tiny hands. Her bright laughter.
The way she ran toward Ruslan and jumped into his arms like he was the safest place in the world.
“I have to live for her.”
But even as I said it, doubt pressed against my thoughts like cold fingers.
What if I never saw her again?
What if they had already taken her?
Hours blurred.
Or maybe minutes passed.
Or maybe days.
My perception of time had collapsed entirely.
My body drifted between exhaustion and alertness, between awareness and numbness.
Then—
The door opened.
The metal hinges groaned loudly, the sound cutting through the heavy silence like a gunshot.
I lifted my head slowly.
Light from the hallway spilled into the room.
Vasquez stood in the doorway.
Harris stood beside him.
Both men had their hands positioned behind their backs.
Their faces were pale.
No smirks.
No arrogance.
