Mag-log inJane's POV The sharp click of the dead line felt like a drop into an abyss. I stared at the tarnished chrome receiver of the courtesy phone, the rhythmic hiss of empty static scratching at my ear. Leo was gone. The fragile bridge to my old life had shattered before I could even tell him which floor, which building, or which city I was trapped in. I was completely, utterly alone again. A tiny, shallow whimper vibrated against my bare collarbone. I looked down, my hands trembling as I pulled back the edge of the cotton hospital blanket. My son’s face was too pale under the emerald emergency glare of the corridor. His small eyes were half-lidded, his tiny mouth twitching as he struggled to draw a full breath. He wasn't crying anymore. The frantic, loud wails that had terrified me moments ago had given way to an unnatural lethargy. Panic, cold and suffocating, tightened around my throat. If he was quiet, he was fading. We hadn't come to Manhattan Presbyterian to hide; we had com
Benjamin's POV The cold metal handle of the manual release switch remained locked under my palm, but I didn't pull it. The echo of that fragile cry from the dead line was a blade twisting in my chest, pinning me to the floor. My chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged hitches. Jane was alive. My son was breathing. And they were trapped in the dark less than four miles away while I stood in a concrete cage, paralyzed by the velocity of the deception. "Ben..." Leo’s gravelly voice was a desperate plea from the console behind me. "Don't just run out there. If you walk into that hospital blindly, you walk straight into Victoria’s net." I didn't turn around. I couldn't look at him yet. If I looked at the man who had carried the secret of my son's heartbeat while I mutilated my own soul with grief, I would kill him. "You told me she didn't survive past the winter," I whispered, the words scraping against my throat like broken glass. "You told me the cold took her. You let me burn t
Benjamin's POV The word hung in the frozen air of the bunker, heavy enough to crack the concrete walls. Yours. My fingers slowly uncoiled from Leo’s collar, the fabric slipping through my numb palms as I stepped back. The rage that had been burning through my veins like battery acid just a second ago instantly turned to ice. Jane was alive. And I had a son. The bunker fell into silence, broken only by the rhythmic dripping of the sleet three levels above us. My entire worldview, the entire foundation of the bloody vengeance I had spent the last few months building, collapsed into dust. Everything had been an elaborate, desperate theater. Then, the static from the dead handset clicked, and the numbness broke. I spun on my heel and stormed toward the steel bunker exit, my boots slamming against the floor. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to break through the doors, to tear the city apart with my bare hands until I found her. "Ben, wait!" Leo lunged forward, his hand
Benjamin's POV The air inside the underground bunker was thick with the foul stench of ozone and my own rage. Leo remained frozen, his right hand clamped tightly over the unlinked encryption token he had just ripped from the master drive port. His eyes were wide, fixed on the blank diagnostic monitor, his chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked hitches under the green auxiliary glare. "You are going to clear that screen," I said, my voice dropping into a register so freezing it felt like a physical weight in the small room. "And you are going to show me exactly what Victoria logged, or I will tear this console apart using your hands." Before Leo could open his mouth to offer another calculated lie, a sharp, piercing electronic chirp cut through the silence. It didn't come from the primary tactical boards or the corporate communication arrays. It came from deep inside Leo’s inner coat pocket—the modified, analog-frequency receiver he only kept for deep-black emergency rou
Jane's POV The artificial hum of the neonatal monitor was the only sound keeping the silence from crushing me alive. Inside the sterile white confines of the VIP isolation suite, the air tasted faintly of rubbing alcohol and old anxiety. I sat on the edge of the mattress, my legs trembling beneath the heavy cotton hospital gown. My body still ached with a deep exhaustion—a lingering reminder of the emergency delivery and the months spent hiding. In the bassinet beside me, my son shifted, a tiny, downy-haired fist fluttering against his cheek before he settled back into sleep. He was so small. Too small for a world this cruel. Eleanor had left ten minutes ago. She had slipped past the soundproof door to finalize our unlinked security protocols with the chief of medicine, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Without her sharp, commanding presence to anchor the room, the walls felt like they were closing in. Every shadow cast by the dim afternoon light looked like an intruder. Ever
BENJAMIN’S POV The green emergency glow of the auxiliary backup batteries cast long shadows across the concrete walls of the blacked-out bunker. I remained standing at the master console, my shirt sleeves rolled tightly past my forearms, my dead, dilated pupils tracking the dead terminal displays. The federal receivership script had done its job with an institutional efficiency that left our primary infrastructure paralyzed. The liquid-cooled processing arrays had ceased their heavy hum, leaving the vault so silent that the rhythmic dripping of sleet from a drainage pipe three levels above sounded like a ticking countdown. "We have an active handshake channel," Leo’s gravelly voice grated through the dark. He didn't look back at me. He was hunched over the auxiliary diagnostic panel, his scarred knuckles moving with a slow, calculated precision over an older, analog terminal board. He had bypassed the primary corporate server lines entirely, routing a localized command string
JANE'S POV We both froze at the sound of the doorbell. Benjamin's eyes, still burning with passion, snapped toward the door. A flicker of panic, then pure frustration crossed his face. My heart, already pounding from the kiss, hammered with a new kind of fear. Who could it be? How long had the
(Jane’s POV) I walked back into the living room, completely ignoring the way Victoria raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me from the couch. She was sipping a glass of water, looking like the undisputed queen of the manor. "Have a lovely dinner, Victoria," I said. My voice was sweet, full
PROLOGUE ~Jane’s POV~ The bedroom air was thick with the smell of rain, expensive cedarwood, and the heavy aftermath of what we had just done. My fingers shook as I touched the sharp line of his jaw. He was sleeping, or doing a very good job pretending. His breathing was slow and steady against
~Jane’s POV~ Even after he cleared his throat and went into his study, my heart was still running a marathon in my chest. Did I imagine it? Was it just the lighting in the room? Or was it real? I shook my head hard, trying to clear the fog. No. Relax, Jane. He was Leo’s best friend. He was







