“Where do you mean we're going, Raf?” I stood up, startled.

“Exactly, don't be absurd, son,” Rafayel's father interjected, planting his hands on his hips and fixing his son with a scrutinizing glare. “Your wife is pregnant, and your brilliant idea is to travel?”

“God, it's precisely because I want to protect them,” Rafayel shot back, his voice dropping to a whisper that was more serious, more resolute, than I had ever heard. "I'm taking them somewhere safer, temporarily, until we've dealt with these bastards. At least there, Leslie can have the full bed rest she's supposed to."

“And just where is this 'somewhere'?” his father pressed, his tone demanding...