Roman’s face darkened. “What the hell does that mean?”
The priest looked at him. “Your father made agreements you never knew about. Alliances sealed the old way. Through marriages, inheritances, children. Caleb discovered that any child of the Callahan line, especially one outside Roman’s protection, could be used as leverage.”
Emma backed away, clutching Lily.
“No.”
Roman stepped toward the priest. “Who told Novak about Lily?”
Father Michael looked past him.
Toward the rear of the church.
Emma turned.
The doors opened.
A man stepped inside, snow on his shoulders.
For one impossible second, Emma saw the man she had loved.
Thinner. Harder. Haunted beyond recognition.
But alive.
Caleb.
Her breath broke.
He did not look at Roman first.
He looked at Lily.
His face crumpled.
Emma’s eyes filled instantly, rage and relief colliding so violently she could not speak.
Roman did speak.
One word.
“Brother.”
Caleb’s gaze shifted to him.
There was love there.
And fear.
“I’m sorry,” Caleb said.
Roman walked toward him slowly. “You let us bury you in our heads.”
“I had to.”
“You had a daughter.”
“I know.”
“You left her.”
Caleb flinched as if Roman had struck him.
Emma found her voice. “Don’t look hurt. You don’t get to look hurt.”
He turned to her then.
“Emma.”
“No.” Her voice shook. “You do not say my name like you still know me.”
He stopped.
Tears stood in his eyes, but Emma did not care. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“I came back as soon as I could,” he said.
“She’s fourteen months old.”
“I know.”
“You missed her first laugh. Her first fever. Her first tooth. You missed everything.”
“I watched what I could.”
The words chilled her.
Emma’s face changed. “What?”
Caleb looked ashamed.
Mrs. Alvarez, who had followed them into the church with Dominic’s help, looked down.
Emma understood.
The grocery cards. The fixed heat. The neighbor who had always been there.
Caleb had not been gone.
He had been orbiting her life like a ghost, close enough to see their suffering and far enough to do nothing that mattered.
Roman’s voice was deadly quiet. “Why are you here now?”
Caleb looked toward Father Michael.
“Because Novak knows the drive is active. The second Dominic opened the lamb, it sent a signal.”
Dominic went pale. “That thing had a tracker?”
Caleb nodded. “Not mine. Novak’s.”
Roman turned on him. “You sent it.”
“I sent the necklace. Novak found out later and altered the charm before it reached Emma.”
“You expect us to believe that?”
“No,” Caleb said. “But it’s true.”
Outside, tires hissed over snow.
Too many.
Dominic moved to the window and lifted the curtain a fraction.
His face hardened.
“We’ve got company.”
Roman’s men shifted, guns appearing beneath coats.
Emma held Lily so close the baby squirmed.
Caleb stepped toward them.
Roman blocked him.
“Don’t.”
Caleb’s eyes flashed with pain. “She’s my daughter.”
“She’s a child you abandoned.”
“To keep her alive.”
Roman leaned closer. “Try another excuse.”
Caleb’s face changed.
Not anger.
Desperation.
“Novak doesn’t want the drive anymore,” he said. “He wants Lily.”
Emma’s blood turned to ice.
The church lights flickered.
Father Michael crossed himself.
From outside came the sound of car doors opening.
Roman looked at Emma, then at Lily.
Something settled over his face—old violence, new purpose.
“No one takes her,” he said.
Caleb stared at his brother. “You don’t understand. Novak won’t stop. Not for you. Not for anyone.”
Roman’s mouth curved slightly, but there was no humor in it.
“Then he should have stayed afraid of me.”
A crash exploded through the side entrance.
Shouts filled the church.
Dominic fired first.
Emma screamed and dropped behind a pew with Lily as wood splintered above her. Roman moved like a shadow made of knives, dragging one attacker down before the man fully crossed the threshold. Caleb grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her toward the sacristy.
“Move!”
She fought him. “Don’t touch me!”
“Emma, please!”
A bullet struck the stone pillar beside them, spraying dust.
Roman’s voice thundered across the nave. “Get them out!”
Caleb shoved open a narrow door behind the altar.
“This way.”
Emma ran.
Lily wailed against her chest.
Behind them, gunfire cracked through holy silence.
The passage was dark and freezing, leading down a set of old stone steps. Father Michael hurried ahead, keys shaking in his hand. Mrs. Alvarez limped behind, breath harsh. Dominic came last, firing once before slamming the door.
They emerged into a basement lined with shelves of candles, donation boxes, and forgotten Christmas decorations.
Father Michael unlocked a metal door at the back.
“Tunnel goes to the rectory garage.”
Roman arrived a second later, blood on his knuckles, eyes scanning Emma first, then Lily.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
His gaze moved to Caleb, who still had a hand near Emma’s back.
Caleb removed it.
Dominic bolted the door behind them. “We don’t have long.”
They ran through the tunnel, breath fogging in the cold air. Emma’s legs burned. Lily sobbed until her cries turned hoarse.
At the garage, Father Michael lifted the door just enough for them to see the alley beyond.
Empty.
Roman looked to Dominic. “Car?”
“Two blocks west.”
Caleb shook his head. “Too obvious.”
Roman turned slowly. “You have a better idea?”
“Yes.”
He pulled a key from his coat.
Roman stared at it. “What is that?”
Caleb looked at Emma.
“My car is under the rectory. I kept it there in case I ever had to get them out.”
Emma laughed once, a cracked and bitter sound. “You planned for everything except being a father.”
Caleb’s face crumpled again.
Roman took the key from him. “You’re not driving.”
They piled into an old black sedan hidden beneath a tarp. Roman drove. Emma sat in the back with Lily. Caleb sat beside her, not touching, not speaking. Dominic rode in front, checking the gun in his lap.
The car slid into the night.
Behind them, St. Agnes glowed with red and blue light that did not yet belong to police.
Emma looked at Caleb.
He seemed older than thirty. There were scars near his hairline, one across his lower lip. His hands were the same, though. The same hands that had once built a crib from mismatched wood because they could not afford a new one.
“You were alive,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And you let me hate myself for not being enough to make you stay.”
His eyes filled. “It was never you.”
“But you let me think it was.”
He had no answer.
Roman’s eyes met Emma’s in the rearview mirror.
For one second, the strange bond between them returned. Not trust. Not comfort. Something more dangerous because it had been born too quickly under fire.
Understanding.
Then Lily stopped crying.
Not gradually.
All at once.
Emma looked down.
Her daughter was staring at Caleb.
The baby’s wet lashes clung together. Her lower lip trembled. Then she reached one small hand toward him.
Caleb broke.
A sound came out of him that was almost a sob. He covered his mouth, turning his face away.
Emma should not have felt anything.
But she did.
That made her angrier.
Roman looked away from the mirror.
The sedan turned onto a quiet street near the river, where warehouses stood dark against the snow. Dominic’s phone buzzed.
He answered, listened, then looked at Roman.
“Call came in from the club. Novak’s people hit the office after we left.”
Roman’s face hardened. “Casualties?”
“Two wounded. No dead.”
“And?”
Dominic hesitated.
Roman glanced at him. “Say it.”
“They took the diaper bag.”
Emma’s stomach dropped.
“The diaper bag?” Caleb whispered.
Roman swore.
Emma clutched Lily. “Why would they take that?”
