Jenelle let out a high-pitched shriek, twisting her arm in Annelise's grip.

Let go of me! You crazy bitch! Assault! Help!

The paparazzi went wild. This was better than a fashion shot. This was a catfight. The flashes turned into a strobe light effect, blinding and disorienting.

Get her off me! Jenelle screamed at her bodyguards.

Two massive men in suits stepped forward, their hands reaching for Annelise.

Mom! Blace yelled, stepping in front of Annelise.

Annelise realized the danger instantly. She shoved Jenelle away, sending the woman stumbling back in her high heels.

Run, Annelise ordered the kids.

She scooped Clemie up into her arms, grabbed the handle of the rolling bag, and bolted toward the nearest exit-a corridor leading to the restrooms.

Get them! Jenelle screeched behind them. "Don't let them get away! I want them arrested!"

Annelise sprinted down the hallway, her breath tearing at her throat. She ducked into the alcove leading to the family restroom. It was a dead end, but it offered momentary cover.

She put Clemie down. The little girl was sobbing, her face buried in the teddy bear.

It's okay, shh, it's okay, Annelise panted, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her hands were shaking. Adrenaline was flooding her system, making her knees weak.

I need... I need a second, Annelise gasped. She felt sick. The confrontation had brought back too many memories of being powerless. She pointed to the restroom door. "I'm going to wash my face. Stay right here. Do not move. Algernon, watch the door."

Algernon nodded. "The camera angle here is blind. We are unobserved."

Good. Give me ten seconds.

Annelise pushed into the restroom, splashing cold water on her face, trying to stop the world from spinning.

Outside in the hallway, the triplets stood in a defensive triangle.

Jenelle rounded the corner. She had shaken off the press but brought her two bodyguards. Her face was twisted in an ugly sneer.

She saw the three children standing alone.

Well, well, Jenelle said, smoothing her fur vest. "Mommy left you? Coward."

She walked up to them, looming over Clemie. "You ruined my shot, you little rat."

Jenelle raised her foot and stomped hard on Clemie's teddy bear, grinding the heel of her stiletto into the fabric.

Clemie screamed.

Blace didn't say a word. His eyes went dark, the pupils dilating until the blue was almost gone.

He reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts. He pulled out a large, heavy glass marble. It was a "steelie"-a ball bearing encased in glass.

Hey, lady, Blace said.

Jenelle looked up. "What?"

Blace flicked his thumb.

The marble flew through the air with terrifying velocity. It struck Jenelle squarely on the kneecap, right on the sensitive nerve cluster.

Crack.

Jenelle's scream was bloodcurdling. Her leg buckled instantly, and she collapsed to the floor, clutching her knee.

My leg! You broke my leg!

The bodyguards lunged. "You little-"

Blace didn't retreat. As the first bodyguard reached for him, Blace dropped to the ground, sliding between the man's legs like a baseball player stealing home.

As he slid, he pulled a small paper packet from his other pocket and clapped his hands together.

A cloud of fine, white powder exploded into the air.

It was a mixture of ground white pepper and dried chili flakes-Clemie's special "bad dog" recipe.

The bodyguards inhaled it.

Instantly, they were incapacitated. They doubled over, coughing violently, tears streaming down their faces, sneezing uncontrollably.

My eyes! I can't see! one of them yelled.

Blace stood up, dusted off his knees, and looked down at Jenelle, who was writhing on the floor.

Don't touch the bear, Blace said calmly. He picked up the dirty teddy bear, dusted it off, and handed it back to a stunned Clemie.

Apologize, Blace demanded of Jenelle.

I'm going to kill you! Jenelle sobbed.

Wrong answer. Blace reached into his pocket again.

Just then, heavy footsteps echoed from the main terminal. The sound of expensive leather shoes hitting the tile with authority.

But the footsteps weren't coming closer. They were outside, by the curb. A car door slammed shut with a heavy, final thud.

Someone was here. Someone who didn't need to enter the building to command it.

---

Inside the Rolls Royce Phantom parked at the curb, Archibald Sanders watched the chaos unfold on the tablet in his lap. The screen showed a live feed from Casimiro's hidden body camera. His face was a mask of thunderous fury.

He had heard the commotion through Casimiro's earpiece. He had heard Jenelle's scream.

He stopped breathing.

The scene before him was chaos. Jenelle was on the floor, weeping and clutching her knee. Her two hired goons were blind, sneezing and stumbling into the walls.

And standing in the center of the storm were three children.

Archibald's eyes locked onto the boy in the front. The one with the messy dark hair and the defiant stance.

The boy looked up, straight at Casimiro's camera.

Archibald felt like he had been punched in the gut. The air left his lungs in a rush.

Those eyes.

They were his eyes. The exact shade of stormy gray-blue that stared back at him from the mirror every morning. The shape of the brow, the stubborn set of the jaw... it was like looking at a photograph of himself at age five.

Time seemed to warp, slowing down to a crawl.

Jenelle saw Casimiro and let out a wail. "Casimiro! Help me! These monsters attacked me! They're crazy! Where is Archie?"

Archibald ignored her voice crackling through the feed. He leaned closer to the screen, his knuckles white as he gripped the tablet. He watched as Casimiro, following silent orders, stepped over Jenelle's legs as if she were a piece of furniture and walked straight toward the boy.

Blace didn't flinch. He held his ground, chin up, fists clenched.

Casimiro stopped two feet away. He towered over the child, but the boy didn't look scared. He looked... assessing.

Did you do this? Casimiro asked, his voice a neutral vessel for the question Archibald was burning to ask.

She stomped on my sister's bear, Blace said. His voice was steady. "Self-defense."

Archibald watched as the camera panned to the little girl. She was clutching a dirty bear, tears making tracks in the dust on her cheeks.

Something twisted in Archibald's chest. A sharp, unfamiliar pain.

What is wrong with me?

Then, the restroom door banged open.

Get away from them!

The scream tore through the air. Annelise burst out, her hair wild, water dripping from her chin. She saw the tall, dark figure of Casimiro looming over her children.

But her eyes shot past him, through the glass doors of the terminal, and locked onto the imposing, dark silhouette of the Rolls Royce Phantom waiting at the curb. The windows were tinted black, but she knew whose car that was. She knew the emblem. Archibald Sanders. The ruthless billionaire who had discarded her like trash six years ago.

Terror, cold and absolute, flooded her veins.

No, she gasped. She threw herself between Casimiro and the kids, spreading her arms wide. "Tell your boss to stay away! Don't you dare touch them!"

Archibald recoiled in his seat as if she had screamed directly at him. He looked at her face on the screen.

It was Annelise Parker. But she looked different. The photos in the file showed a soft, pampered socialite. This woman was thin, her clothes were worn, and her eyes were filled with a raw, primal terror that unsettled him.

Annelise Parker, he murmured to the empty car, the name tasting like ash. Why did she look at his car with such fear? And why did her terrified face stir a memory he couldn't place... the memory of his Angel? He shook his head. Impossible.

You, she whispered, her pupils dilated, her breathing shallow and fast. She was looking at Casimiro, but her words were for the man in the car. "It's you."

Ma'am, Casimiro said calmly, trying to de-escalate. "Mr. Sanders just wants to talk."

Monster, she breathed. The word was so quiet Casimiro didn't hear it, but the microphone on his lapel picked it up and transmitted it directly to Archibald's earpiece.

Archibald froze. Why did she call him a monster with such visceral fear? He was the one who was wronged. She was the one who cheated.

Jenelle pulled herself up against the wall. "She's insane! Look at her! Arrest her!"

Casimiro took a step forward, his hand outstretched. "Ma'am, please. Let's not make a scene."

Blace saw his mother shaking. He saw the fear in her eyes. He decided the talking was over.

His hand went into his pocket again. He pressed a button on a small, crude remote control he had assembled from a garage door opener. It sent a high-frequency pulse toward the target he'd tagged earlier.

Outside, at the curb, the Rolls Royce Phantom sat idling. A device Blace had slapped onto the front tire's valve stem during the fire panic-a device containing a small, pressurized canister of a fast-acting corrosive agent-activated.

There was no boom. Just a sudden, violent HIIISSSSSSSSS!

The sound was deafening. The front tires of the Rolls Royce deflated simultaneously in under a second, the heavy car slamming down onto its rims with a metallic crunch. The car alarm began to shriek, echoing through the cavernous airport entrance.

Glass didn't shatter. But people screamed at the sudden, violent noise and the sight of the crippled luxury car.

Archibald was thrown forward in his seat by the sudden drop. "What the hell?"

For a second, everyone was distracted.

Annelise didn't hesitate. She grabbed Clemie.

Run! she screamed to the boys. "Run!"

The feed on Archibald's tablet cut out as Casimiro was shoved aside in the ensuing panic. He stared at the black screen. The car alarm was a shrill, incessant counterpoint to the thunderous pounding in his own chest.

Sir, Casimiro's voice crackled through the car's speakers, breathless. "They're gone. Headed for the parking garage. The woman... she looks terrified of you. Truly terrified. And the children... they're not normal kids. They're resourceful. Organized."

Archibald leaned his head back against the cool leather. He could still see the boy's eyes. His eyes. And he could still hear Annelise's whispered word: Monster.

The direct approach had failed catastrophically. He had arrived as a king, intending to sweep her up, force a signature, and banish her. Instead, his car was disabled, his name had been cursed, and his target had vanished, spirited away by a five-year-old saboteur.

"What are your orders, sir?"

"Find them," Archibald said, his voice dropping to a low, determined growl. "I want to know where she's hiding. I want to know who those children are. I will get to the bottom of this myself."

Annelise didn't look back. She grabbed Algernon's hand, hauled Clemie onto her hip, and ran.

They burst out of the side exit into the chaotic scene at the curb. The Rolls Royce was listing to one side, its alarm blaring. Security guards were running toward the car, shouting into their radios.

This way! Algernon yelled, pointing toward the parking garage. "Level B! Blind spots!"

They sprinted across the access road, dodging a shuttle bus that honked angrily.

Stop them! Casimiro's voice roared from behind them, carrying the authority of his employer.

Annelise's lungs burned. Her legs felt like lead. But the fear of that man in the car-the faceless phantom whose presence felt identical to the one that haunted her nightmares-gave her wings.

Two men in black suits peeled away from the car and started chasing them. They were fast.

Blace! Annelise gasped.

Blace was lagging behind, dragging the suitcases. He let go of the handles.

Leave them! he shouted.

He grabbed a row of metal luggage carts parked near the entrance to the garage. With a grunt of effort, he shoved the whole row sideways.

The carts crashed into each other, creating a metal barricade across the path.

The first bodyguard slammed into the carts, cursing.

They made it into the dim concrete throat of the parking garage.

Where now? Annelise panted.

Yellow Cab, Algernon directed, looking at his watch. "Exit 4. There is a taxi dropping off a passenger. Timing is... now."

They rounded a concrete pillar. Sure enough, a yellow taxi was just pulling to the curb, a passenger getting out.

Annelise didn't wait. She shoved the passenger-a startled businessman-aside before he had fully retrieved his bag.

Sorry! she yelled. She threw the kids into the back seat and dove in after them.

Drive! she screamed at the driver. She pulled a wad of cash from her pocket-her emergency fund-and threw a hundred-dollar bill onto the front seat. "Drive! Just go! Queens!"

The driver, a heavyset man with a thick beard, looked at the money, then at the pursuing bodyguards in the rearview mirror.

He grinned. "You got it, lady."

He slammed on the gas. The taxi screeched away, tires smoking, leaving the bodyguards shouting in the exhaust fumes.

Back at the curb, Archibald watched the yellow tail lights disappear into the traffic. His own security was helping him out of the now-lopsided Phantom.

He stood perfectly still, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His knuckles were white.

Sir, Casimiro panted, running up to him. "The car is disabled. The tires were... chemically corroded at the valves."

Archibald didn't care about the car. He didn't care about the money.

He turned to Casimiro. His face was terrifyingly calm.

Did you see the boy? Archibald asked softly.

The... the one who attacked Jenelle?

The one with my eyes, Archibald corrected. "The one who disabled my car with a toy."

Casimiro swallowed hard. "The resemblance is... significant, sir."

I'm not interested in significance right now, Archibald snapped. "I'm interested in location. I want to know who those children are. I want to know where she has been hiding them. My original plan was flawed. She's not a socialite to be intimidated; she's a survivor. We're switching to Plan B."

He walked toward the backup SUV that had pulled up, ignoring Jenelle, who was now being attended to by a different guard.

Pull the city surveillance, Archibald ordered. "Access the NYPD grid. Use the facial recognition software. I want that taxi found. I want that woman's final destination. I need her pinned down so I can execute the next phase."

He climbed into the dark leather seat, his heart pounding a rhythm he hadn't felt in years.

He closed his eyes, and the image of the boy's face burned behind his eyelids.

And Annelise. The look on her face.

Rapist.

Why had she called him that? She was the cheater. She was the one who had betrayed him. Why did she look at him with such genuine, horrifying fear? It didn't add up. The pieces of the puzzle were all wrong.

Find them, Archibald whispered to the empty air. "And secure the asset next door. I'm going in myself."

In the taxi, Annelise pulled the kids into a pile, hugging them so tight it hurt. She was sobbing, dry, heaving sobs that shook her whole body.

It's okay, Mom, Blace said, patting her arm awkwardly. "We got away. I melted his tires. It was awesome."

Don't ever do that again, Annelise cried, kissing his dirty forehead. "You could have been hurt."

He was big, Clemie whispered, her eyes wide. "The man in the big car... he smelled like... sadness. And rain."

Annelise shuddered. She knew that smell. It was the smell of the man who had ruined her life. She didn't know how the enforcer for her phantom husband could smell exactly like her attacker. The coincidence was so terrifying it felt like a curse.

And now, he knew they were here.