Poetic, almost.
I entered alone.
My footsteps echoed across cracked tile.
At the center of the main hall stood Samuel’s bassinet.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I ran forward.
“Stop.”
Calloway emerged from the shadows.
Beside him stood Celeste.
Behind them, Nathaniel was dragged in by two men, wrists bound, face bruised but eyes burning.
“Evie,” he said.
I sobbed.
Samuel stirred in the bassinet, alive, bundled, red-faced from crying.
Calloway held out his hand.
“The drive.”
I took the fake from my pocket.
Then stopped.
“No,” I said.
Calloway’s smile faded.
“I want Samuel first.”
Celeste scoffed. “You are not in a position to negotiate.”
I looked at her. “Neither are you, Celine.”
Her face changed.
I used her real name like a key.
“Your mother left you a message,” I said. “She didn’t want this.”
“Shut up.”
“She said Calloway corrupted Black Harbor.”
“Shut up.”
