Lyra Mother dropped to her knees before her captor without thinking about pride or dignity or how many times she had sworn she would never beg again. The wooden floor was cold beneath her skin, but she barely felt it. Her hands shook as they pressed into the ground, her head bowed low, her shoulders tight with something that felt like panic and hope mixed together in a way that hurt.

“Please,” she said, her voice breaking before she could stop it. “Please. I have done everything you ...