“That’s Mara’s,” I whispered.

“It’s the Steel family crest,” Ryker said, his jaw tightening.

“These are Mara’s children.”

The revelation hung heavily in the chilly, dry air of the terminal.

His late sister’s children, abandoned in one of the busiest airports in the world.

Ryker looked at them, his eyes softening with a sudden, fierce protectiveness.

“We have to get them out of here,” Ryker said, his voice turning to ice.

He stood up, pulling his phone from his dark suit pocket.

“Marco, get the SUV to the curb right now.”

I opened my leather briefcase and pulled out my tablet.

“I’m drafting the emergency temporary guardianship papers right now,” I said.

“We need to secure them before the state tries to take them into protective custody.”

Owen reached into his small, dirty backpack and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

“She told us to keep this in case we got lost,” the boy said, handing it to Ryker.

Ryker smoothed out the paper with his thumb.

I looked over his shoulder.

It was a photocopy of a private family trust agreement.

At the bottom, printed in bold ink, was a signature that made my blood run cold.

*Gideon Voss, Trustee.*

“Voss,” Ryker muttered, his eyes narrowing.

“He’s the one who orchestrated this.”

“He’s trying to control Mara’s portion of the Steel legacy,” I said.

“If he has the children, he has the voting shares.”

“Not if I have them first,” Ryker said.

He bent down and lifted Owen into his strong arms.

I reached out and gently picked up Lily, who immediately buried her cold face in my shoulder.

She felt incredibly light, her small frame still shaking.

“Let’s move,” Ryker said.

We walked quickly toward the glass sliding doors leading to the passenger pickup lane.

My tablet buzzed in my hand with a sharp vibration.