Chapter 1 - THE STICK CAME DOWN
The wooden hiking stick came down so fast Sophia Bennett heard the air split before the floor cracked.
Ryan Miller swung with both hands.
Full force.
Downward.
Straight toward the space beside her six-month-pregnant body.
Sophia curled tighter against the white kitchen cabinets, one arm wrapped around her belly, the other shielding her head.
The stick slammed into the hardwood floor inches from her hip.
A sharp crack tore through the bright suburban kitchen.
Splinters jumped.
The rough wood rebounded in Ryan’s hands, and the impact shook through the floorboards into Sophia’s knees.
She screamed.
Not a long scream.
A shocked, breathless sound that ended with both hands covering her stomach.
Ryan stood over her in a gray sleeveless shirt, blue jeans, and brown boots, dark hair disheveled, short beard tight around a face she barely recognized. His chest rose and fell hard. His hands tightened around the stick like it was the only thing keeping his rage upright.
Behind him, Vanessa Lopez clung to his shoulder.
She was supposed to look like she was stopping him.
She was not.
Her dark hair fell over one shoulder. Her black sleeveless blouse and fitted pants were immaculate. Her open-toe heels clicked against the hardwood as she leaned close, eyes bright with a cruel excitement Sophia had seen too late.
Ryan’s voice cracked through the kitchen.
“You lied about my child!”
Sophia pressed one palm into the floor and tried to crawl backward. Her white maternity top pulled tight over her stomach. Her light-gray cardigan slid off one shoulder. Her blonde hair stuck to her damp cheek.
“Ryan,” she gasped, “she invented everything!”
His eyes flicked toward the granite counter.
Sophia’s smartphone lay there, screen dark.
Too far.
Vanessa saw him look.
She leaned into his ear and pointed.
“Stop her before she calls them!”
Them.
The word hit Sophia harder than the stick had hit the floor.
Ryan’s hands shifted.
He tore the stick free from the splintered hardwood and lifted it again over his shoulder.
Sophia’s body went cold.
There are seconds that become entire rooms.
The kitchen held all of them at once.
The shattered wooden front door fragments from earlier scattered across the entryway. The granite counter gleamed under late-afternoon sunlight. White cabinets. Clean windows. Hardwood floors. The ordinary safety of a suburban Chicago kitchen cracked open by the man who had once painted the nursery wall yellow because Sophia said yellow felt like morning.
Ryan began the second swing.
Then the front door exploded inward.
One decisive kick.
The damaged wooden frame splintered. Fragments flew across the entryway. Bright daylight flooded the kitchen.
Ryan jerked toward the sound, slowing the stick inches above Sophia.
A dark-haired man in a fitted black T-shirt and dark pants charged through the broken doorway.
He crossed the room in two forceful strides.
Before Ryan could recover, the man caught Ryan’s weapon wrist with one hand and locked his forearm with the other.
The stick froze midair.
The stranger’s voice cut through the room.
“Drop the stick.”
Ryan struggled once.
Hard.
The man pivoted his body, forced Ryan’s wrist downward, and drove the tip of the stick safely into the empty hardwood away from Sophia.
Vanessa stumbled backward into the granite counter.
All confidence drained from her face.
The man planted himself between Ryan and Sophia, holding Ryan’s weapon arm immobilized. His back was broad. His stance controlled. His breathing steady.
Ryan stared at him.
Recognition moved across his face.
First confusion.
Then disbelief.
Then fear.
Sophia looked up from the floor, still clutching her belly.
Her eyes filled.
“You found me.”
The man did not turn away from Ryan.
But his voice softened.
May you like
“Always.”
Sophia had not seen Caleb Bennett in almost three years.
