Liana had fallen back asleep, but Luca’s eyes were open, staring up at me in the dim light of the passing streetlamps.

They looked so much like Dominic.

They had the same dark hair, the same shape of the brow.

I realized then that I didn’t just have to save myself anymore.

I was the only thing standing between these babies and the man in the front seat.

The car drove through the historic streets of Boston, climbing the hill toward the old money estates.

The houses here were massive, hidden behind tall brick walls and wrought-iron gates.

We turned off the main road onto a private drive.

The tires crunched on wet gravel.

Through the rain, the Romano mansion rose up like a stone fortress.

It was a grand, three-story Tudor house with dark timber and leaded glass windows.

Only a few yellow lights flickered in the upper rooms.

The rest of the house was dark.

The car stopped under the stone portico.

The driver got out and opened my door, holding a black umbrella over his head.

“Out,” he said.