Barron turned on his heel. He took a step toward the door to begin the interrogation.

Amari reached out. Her small hand, free of IV lines, grabbed the bottom edge of Barron's suit jacket. She gripped the expensive fabric tight.

Barron stopped instantly. He turned back. He bent at the waist, bringing his face level with hers.

Amari swallowed hard. "I want to take Ghost."

Andres frowned. "Who is Ghost? Is there another child trapped in that house?"

Amari shook her head. "No. He's a black cat. He lives in the shed in the backyard."

Evalyn stroked Amari's hair. She looked up at her brothers. "He was the only friend she had."

Elwin smiled gently. "We can buy you any cat in the world, Amari."

Amari shook her head stubbornly. Tears pooled in her eyes. She tried to sit up, but the movement pulled her fractured ribs. She gasped and fell back.

Finley rushed forward. He placed his large hands gently on her shoulders. "Don't move. We'll get him. I promise."

Barron checked his watch. He looked at Andres. "Prep the heavy medical transport. We go together."

Ten minutes later, a massive mobile ICU truck pulled up to the hospital entrance. Four medics rolled Amari's bed inside. Andres pushed Evalyn's wheelchair next to it. Six armored SUVs formed a convoy.

Miles away, inside Delma's living room, the air was thick with tension. Delma and Jazmyne sat on the sofa, their hands zip-tied behind their backs. Four tactical guards stood in the corners like stone statues.

Jazmyne thrashed. "You can't do this! My family will have you thrown in federal prison!"

The guard captain stared at her with dead eyes. He walked over, pulled a dirty rag from his vest, and shoved it into her mouth.

Outside, the rumble of heavy diesel engines shook the windows. Tires screeched. The mobile ICU truck parked directly in front of the broken gates.

The guards inside moved to the entrance. The ruined doorway was suddenly filled with bright afternoon sunlight.

The sudden glare hit Delma's face. She squinted.

When her eyes adjusted, she looked at the doorway.

Evalyn sat in a wheelchair, wearing a hospital gown. Her posture was rigid. Her eyes locked onto Delma with pure, concentrated hatred.

Delma's breath caught in her throat. The blood drained from her face. The woman she thought was a brain-dead vegetable was staring right at her.

Barron walked into the living room. His long legs closed the distance to the sofa in three strides. He stood over Delma, blocking the sunlight.

The guard captain stepped forward. He grabbed the rag in Jazmyne's mouth and yanked it out.

Jazmyne gasped for air. She glared up at Barron. "My father is the CEO of Adkins Enterprises! We have lawyers! We will destroy you!"

Barron reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a white silk handkerchief. He wiped his hands slowly, as if the air around her disgusted him.

He let out a short, hollow laugh. "Adkins Enterprises. Cute. I am Barron Dale. CEO of the Dale Media Empire."

Jazmyne's jaw dropped. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets. The color vanished from her skin, leaving her looking like a corpse.

She knew that name. Everyone in the country knew that name. The Dale family controlled sixty percent of the media, news, and entertainment in the United States.

Delma shook her head frantically. She looked at the wheelchair. "No. No, that's impossible. She's a nobody. She's just a stray with amnesia!"

Evalyn spoke. Her voice was raspy, but it cut through the room like a blade of ice.

"I woke up years ago," Evalyn said. "I felt every needle. I heard every insult. I listened while you starved my daughter. I was trapped in my own skin, waiting for the day I could tear yours off."

Delma's whole body began to violently tremble. She threw herself off the sofa. She landed on her knees. She slammed her forehead against the hardwood floor.

"Please! It wasn't me!" Delma screamed. She pointed a shaking finger at Jazmyne. "It was her! She made me do it! She hated the kid!"

Jazmyne snarled. She threw her weight sideways. Her shoulder rammed into Delma's ribs. The two women collapsed onto the floor. They kicked and bit at each other like rabid animals, their zip-tied hands useless.

Johnie stood by the door. He rolled his eyes. He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

Two guards walked into the room. They held thick leather leashes. At the ends of the leashes were two massive, retired military Belgian Malinois.

The dogs planted their feet. They bared their teeth. A deep, guttural growl vibrated from their chests. They stared directly at the two women on the floor.

Delma and Jazmyne froze. They screamed. Delma curled into a tight ball. A dark, wet stain spread across the front of her expensive pants.

Amari lay on the stretcher just outside the door. She watched the women cry. Her face was completely blank. She felt nothing for them.

Barron pulled his phone out. He hit a speed-dial number. It connected straight to his lead broker on Wall Street.

"Dump it all," Barron ordered. "Short-sell every share of Adkins Enterprises. I want their stock at zero before the market closes."

Jazmyne sobbed hysterically. "No! Please! My family has nothing to do with this!"

Barron ended the call. He tossed the phone onto the cracked glass coffee table.

He looked at the guard captain. "Hand them over to the FBI agents waiting at the perimeter. Make sure the warden at the federal penitentiary knows they require special attention."

The guards grabbed the women by their hair and collars. They dragged them backward out the door. Their shoes scraped against the floorboards.

The living room fell dead silent. Only the heavy breathing of the dogs remained.

Evalyn turned her head. She looked at Amari. The ice in her eyes melted into warmth.

She nodded at Finley. "Take her to the back. Let's get her cat."

Finley nodded. He grabbed the rails of the bed and pushed it toward the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard.

Finley pushed the heavy hospital bed down the overgrown stone path of the backyard.

The rubber wheels rolled over dead, brittle branches. The wood snapped with loud, sharp cracks that echoed in the quiet yard.

At the far end of the property sat a wooden shed. The roof sagged. The paint peeled off in large, gray strips.

The air around the shed smelled thick. It smelled of damp mold and rotting leaves.

Finley stopped the bed ten feet away. He narrowed his eyes. He scanned the dark shadows beneath the overgrown bushes.

Amari pushed herself up on her good elbow. She stared at the half-open door of the shed. She opened her mouth and made a soft, unique trilling sound with her tongue.

It was a gentle, intimate noise, a secret language only she and Ghost understood, completely impossible for anyone else to perfectly mimic.

Finley raised his eyebrows. He looked down at his niece, confused by the noise.

A shadow moved inside the shed.

A cat stepped out into the daylight. It was large and sleek. Its black fur absorbed the sunlight like velvet. It didn't walk like a stray. It moved with slow, deliberate steps. It looked like a king inspecting his ruined castle.

Ghost walked up to the bed. He coiled his back legs and leaped. He landed silently on the white hospital blanket.

He sat down. He lifted his head. His eyes locked onto Finley's face.

The cat had heterochromia. The left eye was a deep, glowing amber. The right eye was a piercing, icy blue.

Finley stared into those eyes. A sudden, sharp spike of pain hit the front of his skull. He winced.

The gaze didn't feel like an animal's. It felt heavy. It felt like a human soul was trapped inside the skull, staring out with pure, calculated hostility.

Finley's heart rate spiked. His instincts kicked in. He took a step back. His right hand dropped to his waist, his fingers brushing the handle of the tactical dagger clipped to his belt.

Ghost's lips curled back. A low, vibrating growl rumbled in his throat.

Amari reached out. Her small hands grabbed the thick black fur around Ghost's neck.

She pulled the cat against her chest. She buried her face in his back. "It's okay, Ghost. They're nice. They saved us."

The growl stopped instantly. The hostility vanished from the cat's posture. Ghost relaxed his muscles. He rubbed his head against Amari's chin.

He leaned forward. His rough pink tongue gently licked the edge of the white gauze taped to Amari's cheek.

Finley let out a long breath. He wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead.

He took a step forward. He reached his hand out to pet the top of the cat's head.

Ghost snapped his head to the side. He dodged the hand completely. His mismatched eyes glared at Finley, cold and warning.

Finley awkwardly pulled his hand back. He cleared his throat. He grabbed the rails of the bed and turned it around.

They rolled back across the grass and entered the living room. The rest of the family waited.

Andres looked at the black cat sitting on Amari's chest. He frowned, his medical mind calculating the infection risk, but he kept his mouth shut.

The guards formed a tight perimeter. They escorted the family out the front door.

The convoy of black SUVs roared to life. They pulled away from the curb, leaving the ruined house behind, and headed toward the private airstrip.