“I have some formula,” he says quietly. “If you want to try feeding her.”
I shake my head. “I want to try nursing her first.”
With his guidance, I position Sofiya at my breast. The feeling when she latches on is strange and wonderful and painful all at once. She’s so tiny, yet so determined.
Tears stream down my face as I watch her. I’ve never felt so exhausted, so broken, or so powerful. I made this perfect being. Protected her through kidnapping and captivity. Brought her safely into the world despite everything.
And now, I would die for her without hesitation.
I understand Vince better now than I ever have. The fierce, fiery need to protect at all costs. The willingness to burn the world to ashes for someone you love. I feel it coursing through my veins, transforming me into someone new.
Someone very, very dangerous.
“Your husband,” the doctor whispers while pretending to check Sofiya’s reflexes. “He is Vincent Akopov?”
I nod, not taking my eyes off my daughter.
“Then God help the ones who have brought us here,” he murmurs. “I have seen what men like him do when their families are threatened.”
“He’ll find us,” I say with absolute certainty in my voice. “And when he does, nowhere on this earth will be safe for them.”
The doctor merely nods.
Outside the room, I hear raised voices. A door slamming. The distinct sound of a gun being cocked.
Something is happening.
I hold Sofiya closer and whisper reassurances I’m not sure I believe. But I know one thing with unshakable conviction: No one will take her from me. No one will harm her.
Even in my weakened state, with blood still pooling beneath me and my body torn from giving birth, I am more dangerous now than I have ever been. Because now, I understand what Vince has known all along.
Love doesn’t make you weak.
It makes you capable of terrible, necessary things.
I kiss Sofiya’s forehead and prepare for whatever comes next. “We’re going to be okay,” I promise her. “Your daddy is the most stubborn, relentless man alive. He won’t stop until he finds us.”
The shouting outside gets louder. Footsteps pound down hallways. The blonde woman’s hand moves to her weapon.
I curl more tightly around my daughter, my body a shield.
“Let them come,” I whisper against Sofiya’s downy head. “Your father taught me how to fight. And for you, my love, I’ll fight the whole world.”
The door bursts open.
And I am ready.
7
VINCE
The meat processing plant looms ahead of us like a fortress from hell. Solovyov’s men patrol the perimeter—I count six visible guards, which means at least a dozen more inside. Floodlights sweep across the empty parking lot, illuminating rusted chain-link fences topped with razor wire.
Somewhere in there is my wife.
Somewhere in there is my child.
“The security system is wired through that junction box.” Daniel points to a small metal container mounted on the east wall. “Take that out, and their cameras go dark.”