The guard rotations are predictable. I've mapped every blind spot, identified which cameras have dead zones, memorized which staff members are too terrified of Calder to make eye contact. I know every exit, every locked door, every window that opens from the inside.
But none of it matters because I haven't seen her yet.
The lower wing where they keep the boy is locked down tighter than a vault. A nanny, two guards at all times, and a camera sweeping the hall every thirty seconds. I've walked past it twice, always with another guard breathing down my neck.
Calder is one paranoid fucker. Trust is earned in millimeters here, and I'm still on the outside, crawling forward while every instinct in me is screaming to tear this place apart until I find them.
Last night I almost broke protocol. Almost slipped away from Lemieux during the shift change to get a look inside the loft where Calder keeps her.
Would've blown everything, but I caught myself just in time.
The call comes midmorning while I'm on the east perimeter with Marchand. He's built like a tank, talks too much, and has been shadowing me since I arrived.
"Boss wants to see you," he says, jerking his head toward the main house.
Fireworks go off inside me, but I keep my face blank. "When?"
"Now. Let's go."
Fucking finally.
I follow him across the grounds and through the side entrance I've only seen from a distance. The interior is pristine. Too sterile. Everything polished to a mirror shine, like Calder's afraid of anything human touching his world.
Then I see movement at the end of the hallway.
Fiery red hair.
Everything stops.
My lungs forget how to work. My feet keep moving, but I'm not the one controlling them anymore.
Keira.
Her back is to me, but I'd know her anywhere. The shape of her. The way she moves—except she doesn't move the same anymore, and the wrongness of it makes it impossible to look away.
Shoulders hunched inward like she's trying to disappear.
She's half the size she was in New York.
Nothing could have prepared me for this.
Marchand keeps walking, oblivious. I force my body to do the same even though every cell in me is telling me to grab her, find the boy, and run.
You don't even know his name yet.
Being this far in the dark has never been me, and it makes this entire mission incredibly uncomfortable.
We step aside to let her pass, pressing our backs against the wall like good little soldiers. Marchand drops his gaze to the floor.
I don't.
I can't.
Months of searching and she's three feet away from me. Close enough to touch. A single look and fuck, it would be enough to destroy…
Don't look at me.
Look at me.
