“We have to find her,” I said softly, my voice barely audible over the wind.

“We will,” Dominic said. “I promise you, Elena.”

Behind us, federal agents in dark jackets began to flood the tarmac, their weapons drawn.

Caterina let the tablet slip from her fingers.

It hit the wet asphalt with a dull crack, the screen shattering, but the live feed of Lucia remained lit through the cracks.

An agent stepped forward, grabbing Caterina’s wrists and pulling them behind her back.

She didn’t look at her son as they led her away.

Dominic knelt down in the rain, picking up the broken tablet.

The screen flickered.

On the display, the door to the dark room where Lucia sat began to creak open.

The screen flickered.

A figure stepped into the frame of the dark room on the tablet screen.

I held my breath, my fingers digging into the wet fabric of Dominic’s coat.

It was Marco.

He knelt down in front of Lucia, his broad shoulders blocking the lens for a second before he looked directly into the camera.