Footsteps.
Voices.
A body hitting the floor.
I cover Lily’s head with my hand and crouch low, curling around her, rocking back and forth like I can calm us both. Her sobs echo through my chest, mingling with the frantic thud of my heartbeat.
They’re here. They’re inside the safehouse.
I hold her tighter, praying we won’t be found.
Praying Shane is still alive.
Praying Liam is close enough to save us.
I can’t stop shaking.
I rock Lily gently, whispering over and over,“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
But even I don’t believe it anymore.
Outside the closet, the sounds of the struggle have dulled—no more shouting, no more gunfire. Just silence. That terrifying kind of silence that says someone won.
I hold my breath, willing myself to disappear, to sink through the floor and take Lily with me.
Then I hear footsteps. Deliberate. Measured. Getting closer.
I press Lily’s face against my chest and squeeze my eyes shut.
A shadow stretches across the narrow sliver of light under the door.
They stop right in front of us.
Please, I beg silently. Please just keep walking.
The doorknob creaks. I don’t even dare to breathe.
The door is yanked open. Light floods the tiny space. I blink up in horror.
Standing over me, dressed in black, blood spattered across his sleeve, is the last man I ever wanted to see.
Dariy.
His cold, dead eyes meet mine.
And then he smiles.
“Found you,” he says softly, like this is some twisted game of hide and seek.
I open my mouth to scream, but he’s faster. He grabs me by the arm and yanks me upright, tearing me from the pile of coats. Lily wails in my grasp, her cries shrill with terror.
“Let go of me—don’t touch her?—”
Dariy leans in, his face far too calm for the chaos he’s unleashed. His voice is low and precise.
“You have two choices, Annika.” He brushes a piece of hair from my cheek with mock gentleness. “Come with us quietly, and we leave the baby with your little guards. We’ll walk out, and she stays unharmed. Or…”
His hand closes around my upper arm like a vice.