“Yes,” Dante said. “But the moment you step foot on that pier, my men will start neutralizing his lookouts.”

He looked at me, his eyes dark and intense.

“You must keep him talking, Sophia,” he said. “Give us five minutes.”

“I can do that,” I said, though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

I walked back into the bedroom to change out of my sweatpants.

I chose a simple, dark sweater and jeans.

I wanted to look small, vulnerable, and unthreatening.

As I pulled the sweater over my head, I saw Lily’s empty crib again.

The pink blanket still lay on the floor.

I picked it up and pressed it to my face, inhaling her sweet, baby-powder scent.

A cold rage, different from Dante’s but just as lethal, settled deep into my bones.

I would get my daughter back.

I walked back into the kitchen, the blanket clutched tightly in my hand.

Dante was checking his firearm, the metallic slide clicking into place with a sharp, final sound.

He tucked the gun into his shoulder holster and looked up at me.

“Are you ready?” he asked.