“Daniel,” she whispered.

“We are going to be fine,” I said.

I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled both of my boys close to my chest.

Their small bodies felt warm and fragile.

“I will not let him near any of you again.”

She reached out, her fingers brushing Owen’s dark hair.

“He wanted to take them because of the money,” she said.

Her voice was stronger now, though still hoarse.

“He thought he could force me to help him get a payout from you.”

“I know,” I said.

“But he underestimated you.”

“And he underestimated how far I would go to protect my sons.”

We sat in silence for the next two hours.

The only sound was the steady hum of the heart monitor and the rain tapping against the glass.

Outside, the sky turned a bruised, dark purple as evening fell.

A nurse came in to check Claire’s vitals and change her IV bag.

She looked at me with a quiet sympathy that made me uncomfortable.

At nine o’clock, the door opened again.

Detective Miller stood there, his wet coat dripping onto the linoleum floor.