Elira didn’t scream.
She didn’t speak.
She just stared at the note stabbed into the crib where her baby had been.
Two daughters. One heart. Choose wisely.
Her pulse slowed. Her vision tunneled. A scream rose in her chest but never made it out. Because something colder than rage, older than fear, wrapped itself around her ribs and pulled her down.
Damien pulled the note free. The blade sliced his palm, but he didn’t flinch. He was already bleeding on the inside.
He spun on Delilah. “Who broke in? Who was here?”
But Delilah only looked at Elira. Her hands still dripped with blood, but her eyes held a frightening calm.
“I told you,” she murmured. “Someone came through the window.”
“You were outside the nursery!” Elira snapped, rising to her feet now, fury awakening where grief had ju
