The house was suddenly enormous and empty and the sound of our breath too loud. On the bedside table my phone lit up with a single new message from an unknown number: We told you people would trade anything. Good luck protecting the little ones. No signature. No mercy.
I pressed my palms to my belly until the small heartbeats thrummed under my skin like a drum — two of them now, bright as rebellion.
Outside, tires hummed away and a silhouette disappeared into sodium light. Inside, the safehouse felt like a room that had just been filed as evidence.
My phone rang. Reyes’ name flashed on the screen.
I answered, voice small as a coin. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said. “They had the warrant. There’s more behind it than you know. We’re not done. But you need to be careful, Brie. They’ll try
