Sitting on a small cot in the corner were my three children.

Lena, Noah, and Oliver were fast asleep under a heavy green wool blanket.

Noah was clutching his worn-out stuffed bear, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

A sob caught in my throat, and I ran to them, sinking to my knees beside the cot.

I touched Lena’s soft cheek, then Oliver’s warm shoulder.

“They are safe, Maya,” a deep voice said from the shadows near the desk.

Adrian stepped into the light of the computer monitors.

His grey eyes were bloodshot, and his dark hair was messy.

He crossed the room in two strides and pulled me up into his arms.

He held me so tightly I could feel the rapid beating of his heart against my chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “I should have protected you.”

“I’m okay,” I said, burying my face in his neck. “We are okay.”

Isabella cleared her throat, drawing our attention back to the desk.

“We do not have time for sentiment,” she said, her fingers already tapping rapidly on the keyboard.