She looked entirely calm.

“I told you, Rowan,” she said, her voice carrying easily down the narrow hall. “You are out of exits.”

Rowan stepped in front of me, his body blocking mine from the guards.

“Let her go, Tessa,” Rowan said. “This is between us.”

Tessa stopped fifteen feet away.

She folded her arms.

“Nothing is just between us anymore,” she said. “You brought Maren into my house. You tried to steal from me.”

“She is my daughter,” I said, my voice cracking as I looked at the crib behind the glass.

“She is a Whitmore asset,” Tessa replied coldly.

One of the guards stepped forward, holding a heavy metal bar.

He slid it through the handles of the double doors we had just passed, effectively blocking our only escape route to the stairwell.

We were trapped in the dead-end corridor.

The walls were solid concrete behind the drywall.

The windows were bulletproof glass.

There was no way out.

“You always had a blind spot for family, Rowan,” Tessa said.

She gestured to the guards.

“Secure them.”

The guards advanced, their boots heavy on the floor.