I looked at our three children, gathered together on the small cot in the dim room.

The threat would never end as long as Tessa held power.

“We use the key,” I said.

Rowan nodded. “Marcus, get the van ready. We are going to the compound.”

“It is heavily guarded,” Marcus warned.

“Not tonight,” Rowan said. “They think they won. They will be careless.”

I picked Clara up again, wrapping her in a dry blanket the nurse handed me.

Marcus led the way down the back stairs.

The cold wind hit us as we stepped out onto the loading dock.

Rain poured down in sheets, blurring the lights of the city in the distance.

An armored transport van sat idling in the alley, its headlights dark.

Rowan helped me and the children inside.

The interior was warm and smelled of leather and oil.

I sat with the twins on either side of me, Clara cradled against my chest.

Rowan climbed in last, closing the heavy steel doors behind him.

The lock clicked into place, sealing us in the darkness.