Chapter 249

“Now!” Cailin ducked under a guard’s arm and threw herself against the door. “Open up! It’s Mommy!”

The lock clicked. The door swung open.

She stumbled inside. It was raining indoors, water spraying in heavy sheets, soaking everything instantly. The room was chaos.

“Mommy!”

Elia came running from the back, clutching a waterlogged teddy bear. She collided with Cailin’s legs and held on, sobbing.

Cailin dropped to her knees and wrapped both arms around her daughter, shielding her from the deluge. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Aron and Davy appeared behind Elia, holding their tablets sealed inside plastic bags. They looked frightened and furious in equal measure.

Hilliard walked through the door.

He stopped.

Water dripped from his hair and ran down his face. He looked at the scene before him — Cailin kneeling in the puddle, holding the girl — and then at the two boys standing like sentinels, glaring at him with eyes that were mirror images of his own.

And then Elia turned her face toward him.

The breath left his lungs.

It was one thing to be told. It was entirely another to see it — to feel the pull, primal and undeniable, tugging somewhere beneath his ribs. That was his face. These were his children.

Amerigo stepped into the doorway, flanked by the medical team.

“Secure them,” Amerigo ordered. “Sedate them if necessary.”

“NO!”

The roar didn’t come from Cailin. It came from Hilliard.

He spun around and planted himself firmly between his grandfather and his family, water streaming off him, his expression that of a man who had just discovered what he was willing to die for.

“Get out,” Hilliard snarled.

Amerigo blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said get out.” Hilliard shoved the nearest doctor back toward the doorway. “Nobody touches them. Nobody takes a sample.” His voice cracked open. “Look at them, old man. Do you really need a test? Look at their faces.”

Amerigo looked past him. He studied the boys. He saw the resemblance — unmistakable, indelible. A slow, satisfied smile settled on his face.

“Fine,” Amerigo said. “We don’t need the test. The blood is obvious.” He gestured toward the children. “Bring them to the car.”

“They are not going anywhere with you,” Hilliard said, his voice dropping to a flat, dangerous calm. “If you take one more step, I will have you arrested for trespassing. I don’t care if you own the police commissioner. I will burn this city to the ground before I let you drag them out of here like prisoners.”

Amerigo looked at his grandson for a long moment. He saw a resolve there he hadn’t encountered in years.

“You’re making a mistake,” Amerigo said.

“Leave,” Hilliard said, pointing to the door. “Now.”

Amerigo scoffed, but he raised one hand and signaled his men to fall back. “I’ll be outside. You have until morning to bring them to the estate — or I return with a court order and every federal marshal on my payroll.”

The door slammed shut.

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the steady drip of water.