“We need to pack the essential documents,” Grant said, moving toward the filing cabinet in the corner.

He used a small brass key to open the bottom drawer.

The metal drawer slid open with a heavy scrape.

He began pulling out folders, tossing them onto the desk.

“What about her medical records?” Grant asked. “The girl’s.”

“We don’t need them,” Vanessa said. “She won’t be seeing a doctor where we are going.”

The utter lack of empathy in her voice was chilling.

It confirmed everything I had suspected.

The lock on Lily’s door, the silence, the fear in her eyes.

It was all part of a systematic effort to break the child’s spirit, to make her completely compliant so she wouldn’t cause trouble during the escape.

And to punish me through her.

Vanessa was a monster, but she was a smart one.

She knew that killing me would only bring the full weight of the federal government down on her family’s remaining operations.

But taking my daughter, turning my own home into a prison, and keeping me alive to watch it—that was the kind of cruelty Hector Vance’s cartel was known for.