The room was quiet except for the faint tick of the clock on the wall. Adrian stood by the window, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the moonlight. I sat at the edge of the bed, Micah asleep in my arms, his tiny hand curled against my chest. Zaya had finally drifted off in the crib, her breathing steady, rhythmic, like a lullaby whispered by peace. But peace never lasted long in our house anymore.

The report sat unopened on the nightstand.

Consuelo had sent it two hours ago.

Adrian ...