At the back of the cabin, backed into a corner near the medical bay, stood Tessa.
Her emerald dress was torn. Her hair was wild. And in her arms, clutched tight against her chest like a human shield, was a baby.
Clara.
She was tiny, fragile, with wires trailing from beneath her blanket, attached to a portable monitor.
“Don’t take another step, Rowan!” Tessa shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria. “I have legal medical guardianship! You have nothing! If you touch me, I’ll have you thrown in a federal penitentiary!”
I froze, the gun trembling in my hand. Tessa was cornered, unhinged, and she held the only thing in the world that mattered.
“Tessa,” I said slowly. “It’s over. The police are coming. The media has the files. Put her down.”
“She’s keeping my father alive!” Tessa screamed, tears of rage cutting through her makeup. “She’s nothing but a parasite you didn’t even know existed! You don’t deserve her!”
