The air inside the police station was sterile and quiet, save for the low hum of distant voices and the clicking of shoes against tiled floors. Daniel stood in the reception area, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His eyes were fixed on the hallway that led to the interrogation rooms. 

Lena had already been taken inside. He hadn’t even seen her—just the flicker of her dark coat disappearing behind a door guarded by officers.

His stomach churned.

It felt like standing in the center of a collapsing world.

“She doesn’t even know the Denovan family,” he said again, his voice low but urgent, as he spoke to one...