LIAM'S POV
The backroads were veins of black ice and shadow. I drove by instinct, every sense screaming for blue lights in the rearview. The car I’d stashed in a long-term parking garage—a beat-up sedan bought for cash years ago—smelled of damp and old coffee.
Maya hadn’t spoken since I’d pulled her from the warehouse. She stared at her phone, the glow illuminating the stark planes of her face. The Amber Alert was a living thing on the screen, a digital wanted poster.
“We need to ditch this soon,” I said, my voice too loud in the tense quiet. “They’ll have the plate.”
“Where?” Her question was flat, practical.
“I have a place. A cabin. It’s off-grid. No one knows about it.” I glanced at her. “Not even Daniel.”
She gave a single, sharp nod. “Okay.”
The trust in that one word, after
