The secure location was a nondescript house in a quiet residential neighborhood that Aria would never have suspected belonged to anything but an ordinary family, which she understood was precisely the point.
Tomas Reyes sat at a kitchen table that could have belonged in any home in the city, his hands folded in front of him, his face the particular grey of a man who had not slept and did not expect to again for some time. He was younger than she had imagined, perhaps thirty, with the kind of tired, decent face that made the whole situation feel even more like a tragedy than a betrayal.
He looked up when she entered with Damien and Marco, and something in his expression broke slightly at the sight of her, an unguarded flicker of shame.
You're the nanny, he said. He glanced at Damien. I h
