A small kitchen area stood in the corner with a metal sink and a single-burner hot plate.

On the table sat several bottles of water and a box of crackers.

“Put the children down,” Isabella said, closing the door and locking it from the inside.

Adrian set Noah down on one of the cots.

I placed Oliver next to his brother and sat Lena down between them.

The triplets huddled together, their eyes wide as they looked around the strange, windowless room.

Adrian turned to his mother, his jaw tight.

“How did you know we were at the park?” he asked.

“I have eyes on the family estate, Adrian,” Isabella said, taking off her gray coat and draping it over a chair.

Underneath, she wore a simple black wool sweater and dark trousers.

She looked remarkably like Adrian, with the same sharp jawline and cold, calculating gray eyes.

“I knew the moment you broke the children out of the compound,” she said.

“And Salvatore?” Adrian asked.

“He is furious,” Isabella said. “But he is not the only one searching for you.”