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“You know Roman ?” I asked, but she said nothing.

She stepped back, pulling out another phone—hers, I presumed. “We need a recording. I’ll send it to your sister, so she’ll trust me. Say something that proves you’re doing this by choice.”

She handed me the device with the voice recorder already open. I spoke the only words I knew would reach Sienna.

“Remember—pretend this meeting never happened.”

She took my hands. They were warm but calloused, nothing like I had imagined. “I’ll be with you every second, Selina. I’ll track you constantly. Even if they find the phone, I’ll find another way to reach you. And I’ll send your coordinates to the Ivanovs—to your husband.”

I bit my lip to keep it from trembling, but I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling.

“I’m scared,” I whispered. “I’m so scared. I can’t go back to him. I can’t.”

My sons were in his clutches—perhaps hungry, thirsty, terrified. And I stood there, shaking, unable to face Antonio again. His eyes, his touch, his scent—they all made my skin crawl.

Then her arms wrapped around me. I collapsed into her warmth, breathing in a soft jasmine scent as I sobbed harder.

“I didn’t survive past thirty by being brave all the time,” she murmured. “It was often fear that pushed me forward. If I’d let it control me, I wouldn’t be here. You’re one of the bravest women I’ve met. You’ll get your sons back. You’ll go home.”

I pulled away, sniffling like a child, ashamed of my swollen, tear-streaked face.

“You’re older than me?” I asked, squinting at her.

To my surprise, she laughed. “That’s what you took from my poetic, motivational speech?”

“Sorry,” I grimaced, making her laugh again.

But her laughter died as she touched her earpiece, “understood,” she said, bringing her hand to her mouth.

“Your sister’s coming. I’ll create a distraction. You take the left hallway, exit through the emergency door, then call the number Antonio gave you, okay?”

I exhaled slowly, pushing back the tide of fear and doubt.

“Okay,” I nodded, slipping the phone into my bra with trembling hands.

“You’ll be all right. And don’t forget—we’re here. Every step of the way,” she said, heading for the door.

“Wait !” I caught her hand. “What’s your name ?”

She hesitated.

“Ferna. You can call me Ferna,” she answered, squeezing my hand gently before stepping out.

A moment later, I followed—but turned left toward the emergency exit, Antonio’s phone tight in my grasp.

Present…

The car jerked to a stop.

Dusk had settled as I stepped out, dodging the man who tried to grab my arm.

“Don’t touch me !” I snapped, backing away. My eyes scanned the shadows, desperate to catch a glimpse of my sons.

But only warehouses surrounded us.

Just as I opened my mouth to call out to them, a sickening dread curled in my gut. I couldn’t breathe.

He was here.