I gripped the twins closer to my chest, my arms aching from the strain.

Liana whimpered, her tiny fist pressing against my collarbone.

Luca was quiet, but I could feel his rapid, shallow breathing against my ribs.

“Don’t look at him, Clara,” Leo said to me.

He stepped closer, his leather shoes clicking on the yellow linoleum.

He smelled of expensive cologne, cigarettes, and damp wool.

He reached out a black-gloved hand toward Liana’s blanket.

I pulled back, my spine hitting the cold wooden frame of the kitchen window.

“Do not touch them,” I said.

My voice sounded braver than I felt.

My knees were shaking so hard I thought I would collapse onto the floor.

Leo smiled, but his eyes remained flat and cold.

“They are Romanos, Clara,” he said. “They belong to the family.”

“They belong to their father,” I said.

“Their father is in no position to care for them,” Leo replied.

He turned to his men.

“Bring her,” he said. “And be careful with the infants.”

The two men moved in before I could even try to run.