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"We should tell Lily."

He looked down at the folder still clutched in his hands. His babygirl had spent years believing she wasn't worth protecting, but now, he knew the truth. She had survived something far worse than she had ever imagined. Not just an abusive relationship or a cruel employer. She had escaped, becoming someone's property without ever realizing she'd been marked.

Soren closed his eyes briefly and then made a silent promise. No one would ever put Lily Brooks' name on another list. Not while he was breathing.

Soren didn't leave St. Gabriel's Church immediately. He should have because Lily was waiting for answers. Instead, he stood alone beneath the cracked stained-glass windows, staring at the folder bearing her name.

The church was silent now. Rachel had finally fallen asleep after the doctor increased her pain medication. Luca had stepped outside to coordinate security. For the first time in hours, Soren was alone. He opened the folder again. Every page made the rage inside him burn hotter. A photograph of Lily carrying groceries, another leaving the office after dark, and one taken through the window of her favorite coffee shop.

There were notes jotted in the corner of the papers.

Lives alone.

No immediate family contact.

Routine predictable.

Suitable temperament.

Soren stopped reading. Suitable—as though she were an object to be purchased instead of a woman with dreams, fears, and a heart that had spent years learning how to survive. He closed the folder before he tore it apart.

Luca stepped back into the church. "The perimeter's secure."

Soren nodded. "Rachel?"

"She’s asleep," Luca said.

"Good."

Luca leaned against one of the old pews. "You okay?"

Soren laughed once, but it was humorous. "I've never been less okay."

His oldest friend didn't respond immediately. Instead, he crossed the room and looked down at the folder.

"You going to tell her everything?"

Soren looked at him. "I promised I wouldn't keep anything from her."

"You also promised to protect her,” Luca reminded.

"I can do both,” Soren insisted.

"Can you?"

Soren hated that question, because he wasn't sure of the answer. Lily deserved the truth, but some truths left scars that never healed.

"She already blames herself for surviving." His voice was barely above a whisper. "What happens when she learns she wasn't chosen because she did something wrong, but because monsters thought she'd be easy to erase?"

Luca exhaled slowly. "She'll blame herself anyway."

Soren knew that was true, because most victims usually did.

The drive home was quiet. Soren ignored the calls coming into his secure phone. The Curator. The name refused to leave his mind. It had been fifteen years since he’d first heard it. That was also the last time he'd heard it, too. The guy who said that name was an arms broker in Eastern Europe, and he had whispered it while bleeding out on the floor of a warehouse.

"You don't understand, right? He's not one man—he’s a collector."

Soren had dismissed it as delirium, but now, he wasn't so certain. His phone rang again. This time it was Damien. Soren answered through the SUV's hands-free system. "What?"