Chapter 2

Andrew Blakely was waiting for me on the tarmac at the private airfield. He took one look at my face and knew.

"Gabrielle, what is it?" he asked, his voice low and urgent.

"There' s a problem at home," I said, my own voice flat, devoid of the storm raging inside me.

"I can have a tactical team there in twenty minutes. We' ll secure your family, extract them."

I shook my head. "No, Andrew. No teams. No agency involvement."

He frowned, his professional instincts warring with his loyalty to me. "This isn' t a mission, Gabrielle. This is your family."

"That' s why I have to do it," I said, meeting his gaze. "This is a family matter. I will handle it." I took a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs. "I promise. No fatalities."

My eyes, however, made no such promise. He saw it. He saw the cold fury that had taken root in my soul. He nodded slowly, a silent understanding passing between us. He handed me the keys to a non-descript sedan.

The drive to my own home felt like an eternity. The familiar, tree-lined streets of the wealthy, gated community seemed alien, a facade of peace and order hiding a rotten core. I parked a block away and approached the house on foot, silent as a shadow.

Through the large bay window of the living room, I saw them. Jennifer, the nanny, and an older woman I assumed was her mother, Debra. They were flanking Molly, who was standing in the middle of the room, looking terrified.

"Still waiting for your mommy?" Jennifer sneered, poking Molly in the shoulder. "She' s not coming back. Ever. She abandoned you. Just like she abandoned your grandma."

"She is coming back!" Molly cried, her small voice defiant. "She promised!"

"Promises are for people who care," Jennifer said, grabbing Molly' s arm and twisting it. "And your mother doesn' t care about you."

That was it. The last thread of my control snapped.

I didn' t bother with the door. I kicked it open. The heavy oak splintered from its hinges and crashed inward.

Jennifer and Debra spun around, their faces a mixture of shock and fear. Molly' s eyes widened, first in terror, then in dawning recognition.

"Mommy?" she whispered.

Jennifer recovered first. "Who the hell are you?" she shrieked. She lunged at me, her hands clawed.

It was a pathetic, clumsy attack. I sidestepped her, grabbed her wrist, and used her own momentum to slam her face-first into the wall. She crumpled to the floor, moaning.

Debra, seeing her daughter go down, screamed and fumbled for her phone. "Security! We have an intruder! A kidnapper!"

I turned my cold gaze on her. "You' re next."