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Author’s Note:

Hey everyone,

A reader brought to my attention that a couple of chapters were mistakenly uploaded more than once—so first off, I want to sincerely apologize for the confusion!

This was an unintentional mix-up on my end while handling edits, and unfortunately, I can’t fix it immediately because updating them now would trigger an editorial review, which could take a while. That would mean parts of the story might become even more disorienting, and I don’t want to make things more confusing for you all.

I truly appreciate your patience while I sort this out, and I’ll make sure to double-check everything moving forward to prevent it from happening again. Thank you for sticking with the story, and I appreciate you all so much!

Tina didn’t look pleased. Or maybe she was just confused, her lips pulled tight, her eyes flickering between Dominic and me like she was waiting for some kind of explanation. But there was no time for that. Adam was standing beside her, his tiny wrist still in her grasp, his whole body near shaking with fear.

The kid—my kid—looked petrified, beyond petrified. His wide green eyes darted between us like he was trying to figure out what the hell was happening, his small chest rising and falling in frantic little pants. His dark brown hair, tousled and unkempt, stuck to his forehead from the sheer heat of panic, and his lips trembled as he struggled against Tina’s grip.

And yet, despite the terror in his face, a small part of me felt something close to relief. At least he had vigilance, at least he wasn’t the kind of child who blindly trusted the presence of three unfamiliar adults storming into his school. He didn’t feel safe, and that was good. That meant he had instincts, meant he wasn’t naïve enough to think we weren’t dangerous. Because we were. He didn’t know me. Not really. I had no idea if he had ever been taught about strangers, but right now, he was reacting like any kid with a sense of survival should, trying to break free, to resist.

His discomfort was painfully human; his free hand clawing at her fingers, his tiny fingers wrapping around her wrist in a weak attempt to pry himself loose. His breath hitched with every tug, his skin flushing red with exertion. He was desperate, shifting his weight, his body coiling in preparation to bolt, but Tina’s grip was like iron. She wasn’t letting go. “Stai fermo, cazzo!” she hissed, her voice sharp, her patience thinning.

I was still frozen, my eyes locked onto Dominic, my brain failing to process the fact that he was here, standing right in front of me, alive. My breath was stuck somewhere in my throat, and I felt lightheaded, like my body was about to betray me and drop to its knees.

I had watched him go silent. I had grieved him.

And yet, here he was.

I barely noticed myself moving, but my feet dragged forward, my eyes scanning him for any sign of injuries, any blood staining through his shirt, any wounds that hadn’t closed yet. I expected something, anything—a limp, a grimace, a fucking wince. But he just stood there, his green eyes steady on me, his expression unreadable. My thoughts scrambled, crashing into one another, questions piling so high I couldn’t make sense of a single one. How? How was he here? How had he escaped the cops? Who had saved him? Better still; how the fuck had he known to come for Adam?

I told him we had a child, sure. But I had never—not once in the past few days—mentioned where to find the boy. No school name, no address, nothing. And yet here he was, standing right in front of me like he’d just plucked the information out of thin air, like he had known exactly where to look. That realization sent a sharp shiver rolling down my spine, my skin prickling with unease.

This wasn’t just some miraculous, lucky coincidence. No, this was something else. Something calculated.

My breath caught, my mind reeling as my heart slammed against my ribs. It was like I’d spun straight into The Wizard of Oz, a world I couldn’t recognize, a reality that wasn’t making any fucking sense. One second, I was grieving him, thinking he was gone, thinking I had lost him forever. And now? Now he was standing in front of me, whole and very much alive, acting like nothing had happened.

Before I could reach him, before I could even form a word, the sudden, deafening bang against the door sent a bolt of panic through my entire body.

Another slam. Harder this time. Then another. Fists, feet, something heavy. The wood shuddered under the relentless assault, and my stomach twisted violently.

“Hey! Open the fucking door!”

Alaric’s men.

Dominic cursed under his breath. “Can I ever catch a fucking break?” He didn’t waste another second—he moved. Fast. His body twisted toward the door, his muscles tensing as he pressed his weight against it, bracing it. But it wouldn’t hold. It wouldn’t hold.

The room was small, too small. A primary school classroom, clearly meant for young kids. The walls were lined with colorful alphabet charts, bright posters of cartoon animals, and motivational phrases meant for children who were still learning how to read. The little chairs and desks were arranged in neat rows, but they looked useless now, out of place in the chaos. A whiteboard stood at the front, markers scattered on the tray, an unfinished sentence still scribbled across it in a teacher’s rushed handwriting. Be kind to— whatever lesson had been planned was long forgotten.

Then I saw it.

The shelf.

It was pushed up against a secondary door on the other side of the room, barricading it. It was filled to the brim with children’s books, stacked carelessly, some leaning, others packed in tightly. Dominic saw it too. Without hesitation, he lunged toward it.

“Help me with this!” he barked, his voice filled with urgency.

He tugged at the shelf, muscles flexing, his breath coming out in short, sharp exhales. “Hnngh—fuck.” He groaned, teeth gritted as he poured every ounce of strength into pulling the damn thing down. His body shuddered with exertion, sweat forming at the collar of his shirt, darkening the fabric beneath his arms. He winced—finally, fucking finally—a sign that he wasn’t some ghost, that he wasn’t untouchable. He was hurting. He shouldn’t even be up, shouldn’t even be moving.

Books tumbled to the floor.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Charlotte’s Web, Matilda—bright covers flashing as they crashed around his feet. He yanked again, harder this time.

Tina was still struggling with Adam, her voice rising. “Ragazzo, if you don’t fucking—” She yanked, hard. Adam let out a high, panicked whimper, his body twisting, his small fingers clawing at hers.

Dominic, in the middle of trying to shift the damn shelf, snapped his head toward me. “Where the hell did you find her?”

Another violent slam against the door. The hinges rattled, groaning under the pressure. It wasn’t going to hold for long.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My mind was still catching up, still trying to process everything: Dominic being here, alive, Adam’s pure, unfiltered terror, the men outside ready to tear through the door.

Dominic wasn’t waiting for me to respond. His hands gripped the shelf again, his whole body shaking as he tried to haul it down. His jaw clenched, a deep sound of frustration rumbling from his chest. “For fuck’s sake, help me!”

The panic hit a peak. My hands moved before my brain did, reaching out, gripping the shelf, pulling, yanking, shoving books to the floor. Tina was still yelling. Adam was still struggling. The banging was getting louder. And Dominic was fucking furious, his body tensed, sweat dripping, his movements sharp and pained.

We had seconds. Just seconds.

And we were running out of them.

Dominic moved first. His fingers curled around the edge of the shelf, his knuckles turning white as he braced himself. The pounding on the door grew wilder, more erratic, the hinges letting out sharp creaks like they were seconds from giving in. I could hear the muffled voices outside, shouted orders, growled curses, Alaric’s men weren’t playing around. They were ready to break through.

Dominic let out a sharp exhale and yanked at the shelf. The thing barely budged. A curse hissed past his teeth, and he adjusted his stance, his legs spreading apart for balance. His muscles coiled under his shirt, the fabric clinging to his sweat-slicked skin. He tried again. Another harsh pull, this time the shelf scraped an inch, the sound of wood dragging against linoleum grating against my eardrums. Books rained down from the top like a landslide, tumbling to the floor in a chaotic heap.

A final, violent tug.

Dominic’s entire body jerked with the effort, and suddenly, the shelf was free. The momentum nearly threw him off balance. He staggered back, letting out a guttural groan, his chest heaving. His hand flew to his side, his breath catching in his throat. He hunched over, his shoulders trembling, a choked sound of pain slipping out before he swallowed it down.

“Shit,” he rasped. Sweat glistened on his forehead, trailing down his temples, clinging to the sharp lines of his jaw.

I didn’t think, couldn’t think, I just moved. I grabbed the edge of the shelf and yanked it the rest of the way, dragging it across the floor with a deep, grating screech. The sound was nails-on-chalkboard awful, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the door unlocked now, unguarded, an open path.

I turned back just in time to see Tina jerking Adam forward by his wrist. The boy was gasping, his little face twisted with fear. His wrist was red, raw from her grip and he was trembling in her hold. His small, frantic breaths hitched in his throat, and he squirmed, his body twisting as he tried to pull away.

I was on her in a second.

“Let him go.” My voice came out louder than I intended.

Tina let out a frustrated huff, her grip not loosening. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to drag this little—”

“Tina.”

She groaned dramatically but finally let go. Adam yanked his hand back, clutching his wrist to his chest, his terrified green eyes darting from her to me to Dominic, who was now wrenching the door open.

Tina sighed, running a hand through her hair, then muttered, “This is why I will never have children.”

I dropped to a crouch in front of the boy. His lower lip was quivering, his breaths coming in shaky bursts, his small fingers tightening around his wrist like he was trying to protect himself from something worse.

“Adam.” I kept my voice soft. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re here to take you somewhere safe.”

His tiny brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly. His face was streaked with confusion and fear, and his body was taut, like he was waiting for the worst. “Who-who are you?”

Shit.

I forced a smile, ignoring the fact that my heart was jackhammering against my ribs. “Your parents sent us.” The lie rolled off my tongue before I could think twice about it. “They wanted to surprise you with a trip.”

His lips trembled. “Where are we going?”

“That’s the thing,” I murmured, forcing another reassuring smile. “Surprise trip.”

Tina let out an exaggerated eye roll. “We do not have time for this.” She turned to Adam, crossing her arms. “Listen, bambino.” Her accent thickened, but she tried, painfully, to Englishify her words. “There are some very, very bad men outside. And if you do not come with us now, they will catch you. And they will take you. And you will be tortured.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his body jerking at the word. His terrified gaze snapped back to me, his little fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Tina wasn’t done.

“You have to run, you have to fight, and if-if-you get your little hands on a fucking gun, you use it.”

“Tina, Jesus Christ!” I snapped.

She ignored me completely.

Adam was crying now, little hiccuping sobs that shook his shoulders. His small hands trembled at his sides. His tiny chest rose and fell in frantic bursts.

“Hey, enough!”

Dominic shot her a glare as he stumbled back from the door. His steps wavered slightly, his body swaying before he caught himself. His face was pale beneath the sheen of sweat coating his skin. He was in pain, a lot of pain, but he wasn’t stopping.

“We need to leave.” His voice was hoarse, breathless. He took another step back and crouched down in front of Adam. His large hands wrapped around the boy’s small frame, lifting him effortlessly into his arms.

Adam gasped at the sudden movement, his arms shooting out, his tiny fingers gripping onto Dominic’s shoulders in alarm. Dominic grunted, the strain clear in his expression, but he held firm.

Tina let out another exaggerated groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. He’s like, what? Fourteen? He can run on his own.”

“He’s ten,” I snapped.

Dominic exhaled sharply, adjusting the boy’s weight against him. “Move. Now."