"Dad," Shay said again—louder this time. Her small fingers twisted into the wool of Ares's coat, knuckles white. "Mommy is missing."
The word missing detonated in the air.
Doctor Yannis Fenn froze mid-step just outside the room. For a fraction of a second, his mind rejected the sound entirely, as if denial alone could rewind time. Impossible. And yet—had Lara really escaped?
He entered briskly, his trained gaze sweeping the space with surgical precision. The bed was pristine, sheets smooth and undisturbed. No signs of a hurried departure. He checked the restroom. Her luggage sat neatly in place.
But luggage was the easiest thing in the world to abandon.
Behind him, Shay's confusion finally shattered under the weight of fear.
Each name fell like a small stone into a widening abyss.
Ares dropped to one knee in front of her, forcing himself to meet her gaze. His hands closed around her trembling shoulders. "Listen to me," he said, voice firm enough to sound convincing. "Your uncle is sick. He's recuperating abroad. He didn't abandon you. As for Moira, you knew she had her new family. But Larissa Reyes—she signed a contract, remember? She'll come back."
Shay searched his face, desperate for certainty. "Promise?"
Ares hesitated. The silence stretched—thin, dangerous.
"You're a big girl now, Shay," he said at last. His voice came out lower, careful, as if each word had weight. "You understand things. You know… she isn't really your mommy."
Shay blinked.
Ares pressed on, because stopping now would mean admitting he was afraid. "Even if she doesn't come back," he continued, forcing steadiness into his tone, "you shouldn't blame her. She didn't leave because of you. She didn't owe us anything."
The moment the words left him, he knew he had made a mistake.
They did not sound like the truth to a child. They sounded like rejection.
Shay didn't cry right away. She didn't even move. Her small hands loosened their grip on his coat, fingers slipping away as if she had suddenly forgotten how to hold on. Her face went blank—too blank, like a door quietly closing.
"Oh," she said.
Just that.
The sound barely reached him.
Her chin trembled. Her eyes filled, but the tears didn't fall yet. She swallowed, once, twice, as though trying to push something too big back down.
"So… she can leave," Shay whispered. "Because I'm not hers."
Then the tears came—silent at first, then spilling freely, soaking into the front of his coat. No sobs. Just quiet devastation.
Ares froze.
He had faced gunfire without flinching. He had stared down men who wanted him dead. None of that compared to the quiet way this child unraveled in his arms.
I was trying to protect you, he thought helplessly. Why does it look like I'm the one hurting you?
He did not understand. How could the little girl feel so attached to someone who was practically a stranger?
And yet Shay mourned her more than she mourned when her mother left.
Something inside Ares twisted hard and deep, like a blade finding its mark.
He wrapped his arms around her fully now, pressing her small frame to his chest as if he could shield her from the truth he had just given her. His voice broke when he spoke again.
"I'll find her," he said hoarsely, the promise tearing out of him before he could stop it. "I don't care what it takes. I'll bring her back to you."
Shay didn't answer.
She only clutched his coat again—desperate, trembling—like someone who had just learned how easily people disappeared.
Behind them, Doctor Fenn watched with detached interest.
Doctors did not make promises they couldn't keep.
Men like Ares did.
...
Across the street from the hospital, Lara stood at the entrance of a sprawling mall, forcing herself to breathe evenly as waves of people flowed past her. The noise, the lights, the movement—it was overwhelming in a way that felt both alien and disturbingly familiar.
She spent the first hour simply observing. The rhythm of foot traffic. The cadence of voices. The subtle choreography of crowds. For another thirty minutes, she stood before a glowing mall locator, memorizing floor plans, stores, exits, restrooms, and blind spots.
Then she went to an electronics section and entered a cramped store, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. She asked for a cheap prepaid phone, and when she held it in her palm, its weight was unfamiliar but reassuring.
She paid in cash and slipped the phone into her pocket.
When she stepped back into the corridor, she felt it immediately.
Someone was behind her.
A tall, slender man in a low cap lingered just out of her peripheral vision. She had seen him earlier—his reflection ghosting across the glossy surface of the mall locator screen.
"Hey," he said warmly, falling into step beside her. "It's been so long. I can't believe I ran into you here. How are you all these years?"
Lara stopped and turned.
"Do I know you?"
A flicker of something sharp crossed his eyes before his smile widened. "That hurts. We were classmates in high school. Seatmates. You really forgot me, Rissa?"
He had seen the name she wrote: Larissa Reyes.
A glint crossed the man's eyes.
"You hurt my feelings. We've been classmates in high school. We were even seatmates. How could you forget me, Rissa?"
He had seen the name she wrote on the order slip: Larissa Reyes.
Lara studied him carefully, searching the fractured corridors of her memory. Faces drifted in and out—but none of them were his.
She looks easy, he thought. She seemed lost and confused. A woman unfamiliar with the world she stood in. Perfect.
"If you're looking for a laptop," he continued smoothly, "I know a place. Cheap. Powerful. You'd just have to assemble it yourself."
Temptation tugged at her. She had noticed the doctors' tablets, the nurses' laptops. A tool like that would be useful.
She followed him.
They turned corner after corner until the mall thinned, the bright storefronts giving way to dimmer lights. At the very end of the corridor sat a cluttered shop overflowing with discarded motherboards and tangled wires.
"Boss," the man said as he nudged her inside, his voice abruptly colder. "I brought someone. Wants a laptop."
The shift in his tone sent a chill down Lara's spine.
A bulky man emerged from behind the hidden door, behind the shelves, shirtless, eyes crawling over her with open hunger. "Frail and pale," he murmured. "But pretty."
He grabbed her wrist.
Her body moved before thought could catch up. Pure muscle memory.
She drove her knee into his groin. He collapsed with a strangled cry, curses spilling from his mouth. Jonathan lunged—but was on the floor a heartbeat later, breath knocked clean out of him.
She didn't stop until both men lay unconscious.
Then she left in a leisurely manner after filing an anonymous report about the two men abducting women. She did not want to meddle, but from the back of the shop came muffled sounds—whimpers, movement. She knew that others were abducted and held there, tricked just like her.
"Let the police handle it," she murmured, ending the call.
As she hurried back toward the hospital, a familiar image burned in her mind, a small hand tugging at her sleeve, a soft voice calling her Mommy.
Back in the hospital room, Shay swayed in Ares's arms. Her lips parted, as if to speak—but no sound came. Her eyes rolled back.
"Shay?" Ares tightened his grip just as her body went limp.
She collapsed.
"Quick, call the doctor!" Ares ordered in panic.
Then the door opened.
A familiar presence filled the doorway.
"Shay!"