“He was never going to let him live,” Evan said.

“The dose in the baby’s bottle was just the beginning.”

“He has the real antidote with him.”

“If he gets over the fence, he will destroy it.”

Lorenzo let go of Evan’s collar, letting him slump back against the wardrobe.

He turned to me, his hand resting on the holster at his hip.

“We have to find him before he reaches the pump house,” Lorenzo said.

“The guards are too slow.”

“They don’t know the shortcut through the rose gardens,” I said.

“I do.”

“Show me,” Lorenzo said.

He reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a small, black flashlight.

He handed it to me.

“Keep behind me,” he said.

I looked at the crib one last time.

Leo let out a soft, weak whimper, his tiny head turning toward the light.

“We will be back, little one,” I whispered.

I opened the nursery door, the bright hallway stretching out before us, empty and cold.

Behind us, Evan lay in the corner, the sound of his heavy breathing fading as we stepped into the corridor.