Leaving them was the hardest thing I'd ever done.

Luna and Zara were barely three days old, so tiny and fragile in their bassinets. I'd stood over them for an hour, memorizing every detail of their faces, the way Luna's nose wrinkled when she slept, how Zara gripped Sarah's finger with surprising strength.

"They'll be safe," Lana promised, standing beside me. "I swear on my life, Delilah. No one will touch them. We have guards posted, wards up, every precaution taken."

"What if they need ...