A billionaire locked his eight-year-old daughter inside an abandoned dog enclosure at midnight—but when I rescued her, I saw the birthmark that changed everything.

The rain had turned into a torrential downpour, churning the ravine floor into a raging torrent of brown water and debris.

I slid down the muddy slope, my boots losing traction completely. I twisted my body in mid-air, taking the brunt of the impact against my spine as I hit the rocks, ensuring Leo stayed cushioned against my chest. The breath was knocked out of me in a ragged gasp, but the baby remained secure, his small fists knotted in my sweater.

Maya tumbled down beside me, coughing on the muddy water, but she scrambled to her feet instantly, her eyes wide with adrenaline.

"Aunt Natalie! The bridge is blocked!" she shouted over the roar of the wind.

At the top of the ravine, headlights swept through the rain. Two black SUVs had arrived at the perimeter road, their heavy searchlights cutting through the downpour like laser beams. Julian’s private security detail had mobilized.

*"They're down in the wash!"* a voice barked through a megaphone. *"Use non-lethal on the children! Terminate the adult!"*

"Down the culvert!" I yelled, pulling Maya toward the concrete drainage tunnel that passed beneath the estate's high security perimeter wall.

The tunnel was narrow, half-filled with rushing storm runoff. The water was waist-deep on Maya, freezing cold, pulling at our legs with terrifying force.

"I can't swim in this!" Maya cried out, slipping into the murky current.

I caught her collar just before her head went under. "Hold onto my coat! Don't let go, Maya! Kick your feet!"

Fighting the rushing water, I waded deeper into the black throat of the concrete pipe. The air grew thick with the smell of wet cement and decay. Above us, the rumbling of the SUVs passing overhead vibrated through the reinforced concrete walls.

Every muscle in my legs burned. The weight of Leo, the drag of Maya’s body, and the sheer force of the floodwaters threatened to sweep us all away. But every time my vision blurred from exhaustion, Clara’s voice rang through my memories: *Protect my babies.*

We emerged on the other side of the perimeter wall, tumbling out of the concrete pipe into the swollen shallows of Blackwood River.

Across the water, half a mile down the winding rural highway, the flashing neon sign of an all-night diner flickered through the sheet of rain: *BOB’S 24-HOUR TRUCK STOP.*

"Civilization," I gasped, wiping the muddy water from my eyes. "We made it past the wall."

"Natalie..." Maya’s voice was small, terrified.

I turned around.

Standing on the rocky bank twenty yards behind us, his navy suit soaked through and plastered to his skin, was the man from the foyer. Not Julian.

The enforcer. The broker.

He held a tactical submachine gun across his chest, his eyes dead, calculating, and cold. Behind him, Julian Sterling emerged from the tree line, wiping the blood from his brow with a silk handkerchief.