“No.” Clara’s grip tightened on the poker. Briggs raised the gun. “Shame.”
The pharmacy’s front window shattered inward. A black tactical van slammed through the storefront, throwing Briggs and his men to the floor. Through the dust stepped Damian Costello, shotgun in hand, eyes locked on Clara.
FACE TO FACE
“Nobody moves!” Damian roared. Luca put a bullet through Briggs’s kneecap. Damian crossed the broken glass toward Clara, who shielded the babies against the back wall. “Give them to me.”
“He has a fever. Owen. He’s burning up—” Damian stopped two feet away. He saw Owen’s flushed face, Oliver sleeping. The monster vanished for a fraction of a second, replaced by a desperate father. His scarred hand trembled as he brushed Owen’s hot cheek. “My boys. Why did you take them? Who paid you?”
“Nobody paid me! I saved them! Your wife was packing her jewelry while the gunmen were in the hall! She told Briggs to leave them behind!”
Absolute silence. Damian turned slowly toward the writhing Briggs. “Is it true?” Briggs spat blood, laughing bitterly. “She didn’t want them, Boss. She ordered me to hunt the maid down and kill them all before you found out.”
Damian handed his shotgun to Luca. “Put him in the trunk.” Then he shrugged off his trench coat and wrapped it around Clara and the twins. “My car is warm. We have a private doctor waiting at the compound.”
In the back seat of the armored SUV, Damian watched her with unsettling intensity. “You risked your life for my blood.” “They were innocent. I couldn’t leave them.” He leaned closer. “In my world, loyalty is bought with blood. You gave me back my soul, Clara. Which means, from this moment on, you belong to me. I will protect you. But you will never leave my sight again.”
Clara looked at him and understood: she had traded one nightmare for a gilded cage.
THE RETURN
The Costello safehouse was a concrete-and-steel fortress in the mountains. Damian carried the twins inside himself. Victoria sat in the grand parlor sipping wine. When she saw the babies, her glass shattered on the marble. “Oh my god. My babies. They’re alive!”
“Don’t touch them.” Damian’s eyes held no warmth. Then Victoria saw Clara step out from behind the guards — dirty, bruised, wearing Damian’s coat. “She kidnapped them!” Victoria shrieked. “That psychotic bitch stole my children! Kill her!”
Damian handed the babies to the doctor. “I had a chat with Briggs in the car ride over. He was very talkative after Luca removed his fingernails.” Victoria stumbled back. “He’s lying!” Damian walked toward her, unbuttoning his jacket. “You packed your diamonds while my sons were trapped in a burning room. You ordered my men to execute the woman who saved them.”