Chapter 6 - The Stolen Child
"Lily!" Dante's scream was primal, tearing from the deepest corner of his soul.
He scrambled across the marble floor, snatching the soaked teddy bear. The back terrace doors were wide open, swinging violently in the torrential downpour. Footprints marked the wet patio stones, trailing toward the manicured lawns.
Elena caught Dante by the collar of his coat, yanking him back inside as a sniper round chipped the stone doorframe an inch from his forehead. "Get down, you fool! He brought a vanguard!"
"They took my baby!" Dante roared, shoving Elena against the blood-splattered wall. "They took Lily! And you—you let them! You were in on this!"
Elena didn't flinch. Her expression was like carved marble, cold and unwavering. "If I wanted Julian to have your children, I would have handed them over while you were in Milan two weeks ago. Think, Dante! Why did he take Lily instead of Grace?"
Dante froze, his chest heaving, rain plastering his dark hair across his bruised face. He looked at Grace. Grace stood near the archway, her staff lowered, her head tilted toward the floor.
"Because Lily is untouched," Grace whispered softly. Her voice carried no fear, only an unnatural, chilling clarity. "Her blood is pure. Julian does not need the training; he needs the heart of an untainted daughter to cure the almond rot."
Elena nodded grimly. "Julian is dying of the Silver Plague. The ancient Covenant texts require a blood transfusion from a direct descendant who hasn't ingested the Nightshade. He took Lily as medicine. We have forty-eight hours before he prepares the ritual at the Old Fortress."
"Then we burn the fortress to the ground," Dante said, his voice flat, stripped of all emotion, replaced by the lethal calm of an executioner.
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Grace reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, wet scrap of paper she had slipped from the dead gunman's wrist holster. She held it out to her father.
"He left coordinates," Grace said. "He wants us to follow. But not through the front gates."
