Marcus shifted the van into gear, and we pulled out into the wet, empty streets.

The tires hissed against the flooded asphalt.

I looked at Rowan sitting across from me.

The dome light caught the deep cut on his forehead, the blood mixing with rainwater.

He did not seem to feel the pain.

“The key fits the safe in Tessa’s study at the medical compound,” Rowan said, his voice low over the hum of the engine.

“What is inside?” I asked.

“The original DNA records from the clinic,” he said. “The ones she tried to burn. It proves she falsified the custody papers to destroy us.”

I looked down at Clara, who had finally fallen asleep in my arms.

Her small hand rested against my collarbone.

“She will have guards there,” I said.

“They are her personal security, not the police,” Rowan said. “They will run when the truth comes out.”

Marcus turned the steering wheel, navigating the dark industrial district.

“We have twenty minutes before the local precinct responds to the alarm at the clinic,” Marcus said from the front seat.