At the end of the hall was a large circular desk.

Behind it, a massive glass window looked into a brightly lit nursery.

My heart stopped.

Through the glass, I saw a single white crib.

A small, pink blanket was draped over the side.

“Clara,” I whispered.

I ran toward the glass, my hands pressing against the cold surface.

The nursery was quiet.

There was no nurse inside.

Just the crib and the soft, rhythmic hum of a heart monitor.

“We have to get in there,” I said, my voice shaking.

Rowan joined me, his hand smear of blood leaving a dark print on the glass.

“The lock is biometric,” he said, pointing to the scanner next to the glass door.

It required a palm print and a retinal scan.

A sudden, heavy sound echoed from the far end of the corridor.

We turned.

Tessa stepped out of the elevator.

She was accompanied by four men in black tactical gear.

They held their weapons raised, aimed directly at us.

Tessa walked slowly, her heels making a distinct, slow rhythm on the clean floor.