Vera’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Where’s my daughter?”

The woman only smiled—small, deliberate, almost pitying.

“You should thank me,” she said. “If I hadn’t taken her, she’d have died in that fire.”

Vera took a slow step closer. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” The woman’s voice softened, almost melodic. “You think the blast was meant for you? Or him?” She tilted her head. “No, dear. It was for her. The girl with Bellanti blood and my DNA. A threat to ...