Lily's POV
"Wait!" I step between Dante and Rebecca before his power can do real damage. "Let me try first."
Dante's cold eyes shift to me. The objects stop shaking, but the threat still hangs in the air.
"You have two minutes," he says.
I turn to Rebecca, whose mascara is running down her face in black streams.
"Rebecca, look at me." I keep my voice gentle. "I know you're scared. I know someone told you to lie. But a little boy is being hurt right now because we can't find him."
I pull out my phone and show her the video of Ethan crying, the burn marks on his arms.
"His name is Ethan. He's six years old." My voice cracks. "Please. Whatever they promised you, whatever they threatened you with—it's not worth this."
Rebecca stares at the photo, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.
"They said they'd kill my sister," she whispers.
Truth. Finally, truth.
I sit down next to her. "Who said that?"
"I don't know his name. He came into the diner three weeks ago. Gave me five thousand dollars cash." She's shaking. "All I had to do was let Marcus Hale use my apartment for a few days and lie to the police about seeing him."
"Where's your apartment?"
"Eastside. Near the docks."
Dante's already on his phone, barking orders to someone.
"Is Hale still there?" I ask.
"No. He left two days ago. But he left something behind." Rebecca wipes her eyes. "A black duffel bag. He made me promise not to look inside."
"Did you look?" Dante demands.
Rebecca nods miserably. "I got scared. I thought maybe it was drugs or something. So I checked."
"What was in it?" I ask, though my truth-sense already tells me this is important.
"Maps. Photographs. And a list of names." Rebecca's voice drops to a whisper. "All magical families. House Cross. House Blackwell. House Sterling—"
"Sterling?" My heart stops. "Like Detective Sterling?"
"I don't know. The list just said 'Sterling residence' with an address."
Dante and I exchange looks. This is bigger than a kidnapping. Much bigger.
"Where's the bag now?" Dante asks.
"Still in my apartment. Under my bed. I was too scared to touch it again."
Dante makes another call. Within seconds, he's arranged for a team to retrieve the bag and for Rebecca's sister to be moved to protective custody.
"Thank you," I tell Rebecca. "You probably just saved Ethan's life."
She just cries harder.
Outside the interrogation room, Dante's phone rings. He answers, listens, and his jaw tightens.
"What?" I ask when he hangs up.
"The team arrived at Rebecca's apartment. It's been burned to the ground. Just like yours." He meets my eyes. "Someone's cleaning up evidence."
"The bag?"
"Gone."
My phone buzzes. Another text from Maya: Lily, Sterling's family is in danger. They sent another photo. His daughter.
I show Dante. He makes another call, this one even more urgent.
"I need a protective detail sent to Detective Sterling's home address immediately," he barks. "Family is in danger. Yes, now!"
We race to his car. The driver barely gets us moving before Dante's phone rings again.
This time, when he answers, his face goes completely white.
"What?" he says, his voice deadly quiet. "When?"
He hangs up and slams his fist against the seat. The entire car shakes with telekinetic energy. The driver swerves, struggling to control the vehicle.
"Dante!" I grab his arm. "What happened?"
"They took another child." His voice is barely controlled rage. "From House Sterling. Detective Sterling's eight-year-old daughter, Emma. Kidnapped from her school twenty minutes ago."
No. No, no, no.
"This is my fault," I whisper. "I'm the one who mentioned Sterling. Someone's been listening—"
"It's not your fault." Dante's hands are clenched into fists. "This was planned. They've been watching all of us."
My burner phone rings. Unknown number.
I answer on speaker.
"Hello, Miss Chase." The same distorted mechanical voice from before. "I see you're helping Cross despite our warnings."
"Let them go," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Ethan and Emma. They're just children."
"So are lots of people who die in wars." The voice is emotionless. "But you can save them. Both of them."
"How?"
"Stop investigating. Go home. Forget this case ever existed." A pause. "Do that, and the children will be released unharmed in forty-eight hours."
"You're lying," I say immediately. My truth-sense is screaming.
Silence on the other end. Then: "Clever girl. Yes, I'm lying. We'll kill them anyway. But at least you'll have tried, right? You'll be able to sleep at night knowing you chose to save yourself."
"What do you want?" Dante demands.
"Oh, Mr. Cross. I didn't realize you were listening." The voice actually sounds pleased. "What I want is simple. I want you to suffer. I want you to know what it feels like to lose everything you love while being completely powerless to stop it."
"Who are you?"
"Someone who's watched you destroy lives without consequence for far too long." The mechanical laugh sends ice down my spine. "But don't worry. You'll meet me soon enough. At the place where it all began."
"What place?" I ask.
"Lily Chase, always asking the right questions. Here's a hint: where do monsters become heroes, and heroes become monsters?" Another pause. "You have twelve hours to figure it out. After that, we start removing fingers. One child per hour. Tick tock."
The line goes dead.
I stare at Dante. "Where do monsters become heroes?"
His face has gone completely pale. "I know where he means."
"Where?"
"Westfield." His voice is hollow. "The massacre I told you about. Where I killed two hundred civilians five years ago." He looks at me, and for the first time, I see actual fear in his eyes. "He's taking them to Westfield."
"Then we go there now—"
"It's overseas. In a war zone. Getting there takes planning, permits, military clearance." He runs a hand through his hair. "We don't have twelve hours to navigate international law."
"Then we go illegally."
"And get shot down before we land?" He shakes his head. "This is a trap."
"Of course it's a trap!" I'm shouting now. "But two children are going to die if we don't try!"
"We need a plan—"
"We don't have time for a plan!"
His phone rings again. He answers, and his face somehow goes even paler.
"What now?" I demand when he hangs up.
He shows me his phone. A video just sent to him.
I don't want to watch. I have to watch.
It's Ethan and Emma. Together in the same dark room. A man's shadow falls across them.
Marcus Hale's voice: "Twelve hours, Cross. But here's the thing—I'm not the one in charge. And the person who is? They want to show you something special."
The camera pans to the wall behind the children.
Written in what looks like blood: VICTORIA CROSS SENDS HER REGARDS.
Victoria Cross. Dante's grandmother.
Dante's hand crushes his phone. Literally. The screen shatters, circuits spark.
"She's behind this," he says, his voice barely human. "My own grandmother orchestrated my nephew's kidnapping."
"Why would she—"
"To make me strong. To eliminate my weaknesses." His telekinetic power is spiraling. Objects in the car start floating. "She thinks caring about Ethan makes me weak."
The car swerves as the driver loses control.
"Dante, stop!" I grab his face, forcing him to look at me. "You need to calm down before you kill us all!"
His eyes focus on mine. Slowly, so slowly, the power recedes. Objects drop.
"I'm going to kill her," he says quietly. "My own grandmother. I'm going to kill her."
"First we save the kids," I say firmly. "Then you can decide about Victoria."
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number: Smart girl. But saving them requires a sacrifice. Are you willing to make it?
Before I can respond, another text: One of yo
u has to die for both children to live. Choose. Dante Cross, or Lily Chase. You have one hour.