I watched through the rain-streaked window as Rowan and his unit moved toward the side entrance of the hangar.

They slipped through the gate, disappearing into the darkness.

A sudden flash of red light pulsed from the hangar’s security panel.

My phone, sitting in my wet coat pocket, began to vibrate.

An unknown number flashed on the screen.

I swiped the screen with a trembling thumb.

“He’s too late, Maren,” Tessa’s voice purred through the speaker.

“He’s too late, Maren,” Tessa’s voice purred through the speaker.

I gripped the phone, my fingers locking around the cold plastic.

In the backseat, the twin boys shifted in their sleep, their breathing soft and even against the heavy patter of the rain.

The smell of wet wool and old leather filled the cramped interior of the SUV.

“Where is she, Tessa?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“Where is my daughter?”

“Not there,” Tessa said, and I could hear the faint clink of a glass in the background.

“Your husband still thinks like a soldier, but he forgets who owns the ground he walks on.”