Just a few feet away was Lily’s favorite plastic rattle, its bright yellow surface reflecting the dull morning light.

In the corner, one of Dante’s guards lay slumped against the wall, unconscious but breathing heavily.

“Lily!” I shrieked, my voice cracking under the weight of my terror.

I ran down the short hallway to the bedroom, my feet heavy and clumsy.

The wooden crib was empty.

The small pink blanket I had wrapped her in was tossed onto the floor, crumpled and cold.

They were gone.

I sank to my knees on the hardwood floor, clutching my stomach as a sob tore from my throat.

Dante entered the room, his face dark with a mixture of fury and absolute dread.

He knelt beside me, his hands touching my back, but I could feel his own frame shaking.

Before he could speak, a sharp, electronic chime rang out from the kitchen.

It was not Dante’s phone, nor was it mine.

A cheap, black burner phone lay on the laminate kitchen counter, its screen flashing brightly in the dim light.

I pushed past Dante, my bare feet slipping slightly on the linoleum.