Page 6 of Seeking Vengeance

My daughter is coming back to me.

Allthose who were taken are coming back—Stella, Tobias, Cole.

I never thought my loved ones would return. The relief doesn’t seem real through the layers of certainty I’d piled upon their death. I’d been convinced karma had arrived, seeking payment for my mistakes. My many,manymisdeeds.

“Here.” Keira kneels before me, placing a scotch glass in my hands with what I assume is a finger of vodka. “Sip slowly and tell me if you want more.”

“I just want to get out of here as soon as possible.” There’s a tremble in my voice. “I need to get Stella home.”

“We will.” Decker gives me a fleeting look, one that speaks of judgment despite his deep-seated relief at the good news. “If they’re coming here it means we’ve got time to spare. Otherwise, they’d want to meet us at the airport to make a quick exit.”

I ignore the silent guilty verdict he places on my shoulders and down the vodka, then push to my feet in search of more. I drink and pace, drink and pace until the penthouse door opens again, the tiny squeak of hinges and whoosh of displaced air assailing me with temperamental anticipation.

Anissa walks in first, the Fed’s face a picture of exhaustion, followed closely by Hunter. I stand rooted to the floor as those placed in charge of my child’s rescue pile into the room, Tobias shoving past Sarah’s hip to make a mad dash for Penny.

My heart squeezes painfully at the sight of him. His red-rimmed eyes. His dirt-stained clothes.

They embrace in a mass of clinging hands and relieved gasps while I remain still, my relief fracturing as my brother enters the room with my daughter limp in his arms.

“Oh, my God.” I rush for them, my arms outstretched.

She’s covered in blood. Her clothes. Hands. Arms. There are even marks on the normally smooth skin of her cheeks.

“She hasn’t been hurt.” Cole’s tone lacks inflection, his face devoid of emotion. “It’s not her blood.”

“Then what hap—”

“She was upset. I needed to sedate her.”

I hold his gaze, trying to siphon the information he’s keeping from me as sorrow plants its seed in my belly, the roots burrowing deep.

He hands Stella to me, her slim body pliant in my arms, her face so incredibly pure despite the blood stains. Everything else ceases to exist except her. The friends and family fade from my consciousness. The whispered words and mumbled conversation don’t breach my ears.

I sink to the plush carpet, unable to stop myself from squeezing Stella tight. I nuzzle my nose against her neck. Breathe the faint scent of her kiddie shampoo. She’s at home in my arms, her face peaceful with sleep, her head seeming to instinctively nestle into me as the slightest whimper leaves her lips.

The aftermath of tears is evident on her face, her skin red and puffy around her eyes. She survived a war. She was thrown into one of the deepest, darkest pits of this world and made it out.

God, I’m grateful.

I rock her in my arms, just like I did when she was a newborn—forward, back, forward, back—while the room grows quiet.

I don’t want to face our audience. Not yet. I need this moment with her. I need a lifetime of me and my daughter and nothing else. If only I didn’t have so many gnawing, clawing questions that demand answers.

“What did they do to her?” I raise my gaze to Cole.

His cold eyes are already fixed on my face. “We can discuss it once the children are settled elsewhere.”

“Why?” I frown, glancing from my brother, to Anissa, then Sarah and Hunter. All the people before me stare back without emotion. There’s no jubilation. No celebration. Not even anger over what must have happened to claim victory. “What did they do to her?”

I drag my gaze farther to little Tobias who now stands at Penny’s side, his arms around her hips, his tortured gaze on me.

There’s no relief in his expression. Not even a glimpse of happiness at being returned to his family.

Something is wrong.

Something is very,verywrong.

“What the hell did they do?” I demand.

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