“He had a sick sister in Indiana,” Isabella whispered, almost to herself. “Camille must have offered him more money than he could see in a lifetime.”

Another chime sounded from the computer, louder this time.

A set of coordinates flashed on the screen, followed by a live map of the warehouse district.

A blue dot was blinking directly over our location.

“They know we are here,” I said, my voice shaking.

Adrian turned to me, his hands grabbing my shoulders.

“Maya, listen to me,” he said, his grip firm and steady.

“We have to run,” I said, looking back at the sleeping triplets.

“There’s no time to run out the front,” Isabella said, standing up from her desk.

She reached into a drawer and pulled out a heavy black handgun.

She checked the magazine with a practiced click, then slid it back in.

“The alley is blocked,” she said. “I have a feed from the exterior camera.”

She pointed at a small window on her screen that was still functioning.

Two black SUVs had pulled up, blocking both ends of the narrow concrete passage.