“They’re early,” I whispered. “They aren’t waiting for the morning.”

“They want to take the children tonight before we can file our counter-motion,” Ryker said.

He turned and looked at Owen, who was rubbing his eyes, exhausted.

The boy adjusted his grip on the teddy bear, and I noticed how heavy the toy seemed in his small hands.

The fabric on the back of the bear’s neck looked slightly thicker, the seams uneven and hand-stitched.

“Tessa, keep working on those files,” Ryker said, his voice cold and determined.

“I’ll go down and speak with them.”

“Don’t let them in, Ryker,” I warned. “Once they have the kids, we will never get them back.”

“They aren’t getting in,” Ryker said.

The security monitor on the wall flickered, showing the flashing red and blue lights of a patrol car outside the iron gates.

Ryker stopped at the heavy oak door of the study.

His hand rested on the brass knob, his knuckles turning white.

Outside, the blue and red strobe lights from the patrol car sliced through the gaps in the heavy velvet curtains.