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“You prepared for this?" I ask Irina, studying her more carefully now.

“A mother's love is not something to be trifled with. Even Victor's power has limits. I have cared for him since birth. He is a good baby. Strong. Rarely cries unless he wants attention."

The sound of distant gunfire filters through the thick walls. My arms tighten instinctively around Matteo, who whimpers at the sudden pressure.

“What will you do with me?” Irina asks, her chin lifting slightly.

I study the older woman's face, searching for signs of deception or threat. Instead, I find only a weary resignation and something that might be relief.

“Did you care for him?" I ask her. “Truly care for him?”

Irina straightens her spine, dignity radiating from her despite her circumstances. “I have cared for him since the moment he arrived. Every feeding, every bath, every cry in the night—it was me who comforted him.”

There's no boast in her words, only simple truth. My arms tighten protectively around Matteo, but I recognize the genuine concern when she looks at him.

“Let her go. Thank you for loving my son and protecting him until I found him.”

“You would release me? Just like that?”

“You kept him safe,” I reply. “That's worth something to me.”

Oscar's head tilts slightly as he listens to his earpiece. “We need to move. Now. Security protocols have been triggered in the west wing.”

“Go,” Irina urges, suddenly animated. “Take the service corridor behind the kitchen. It leads to a garage with snowmobiles. The keys are in a box by the door.”

I hesitate, studying her face. “Why help us?”

A ghost of a smile touches her weathered lips. “I have raised many children for powerful men. None of them ever came looking for their babies themselves. This one deserves a mother who would burn the world to find him.”

Matteo stirs against my chest, his tiny face scrunching with displeasure at the noise.

“Oscar, lead the way,” I command, adjusting my hold on Matteo to keep one hand free for my weapon if needed. “Irina, thank you.”

The older woman nods once, dignity in every line of her body. “Be good to him. He likes to be sung to when he cannot sleep.”

My throat tightens with unexpected emotion. “I’ll remember that.”

“Here,” she says as she grabs a thick blanket from the edge of his crib. “This will keep him warm.”

I take the blanket, wrapping it around Matteo's tiny body before tucking him securely against my chest. “Thank you,” I say again.

She nods, her weathered face softening as she looks at Matteo. “Go. Be the mother he deserves.”

Oscar moves to the door, checking the corridor before motioning me forward. I follow close behind him, one hand supporting Matteo's head while the other hovers near my weapon. The service corridor is dimly lit, our footsteps muffled by thin carpeting as we navigate through the lodge's back passages.

“We have him. We’re coming out now.”

Matteo whimpers against my chest, his tiny body tensing at the sounds of conflict echoing through the lodge. I whisper soft reassurances as we move swiftly through the service corridor.

“Shhh, little one,” I soothe. “I’ve got you now.”

The kitchen appears ahead, industrial-sized and gleaming with stainless steel. Oscar pauses at the threshold, scanning for threats before motioning me forward. We slip through the space like ghosts, past hanging copper pots and marble countertops still bearing evidence of the evening meal's preparation.

"Garage access should be through here." Oscar pushes open a heavy door that reveals a short staircase leading down.

The temperature drops as we descend, concrete replacing wood beneath our feet. Three snowmobiles stand ready near a large rolling door, their sleek bodies promising swift escape across the frozen landscape.

"Keys," Oscar reminds me, nodding toward a metal box mounted on the wall.