Stolen

Prologue

I sat quietly, fingers combing through Emma's hair as she lay curled in my lap. The rhythmic motion calmed her, but my mind was a storm. I wasn't really present—I hadn't been for a while. I was too tired. Tired of hiding, tired of being someone I wasn't. The name I carried wasn't mine. The life I lived didn't feel real. Every day felt like holding my breath underwater.

"What if I said I want to have a baby?" I asked, almost to myself.

For a beat, silence. Then her body stiffened, and she turned to look at me, her dark eyes stripped of the warmth I usually found in them.

"A baby?" she echoed, uncertain. I nodded, offering a faint smile I didn't really feel. Her voice dropped. "What if I said no?"

Just like that, the smile vanished. I eased her off my lap and stood up, needing space between us. "Never mind," I muttered, the words laced with frustration. I turned my back, because I knew my face would give too much away—how close I was to breaking.

I heard her sit up. Her footsteps padded across the floor. I clenched my fists, grounding myself in the sound of her moving toward me, fighting the impulse to turn around and say something I'd regret.

She wrapped her arms around me from behind. Kissed the back of my head. Her fingers worked on my tense shoulders. Even now, when I was hurting, she could pull me back with just a touch. It only made it harder. I didn't want to fight. I just wanted a life that felt like mine again.

She took my hands in hers and gave a firm squeeze. "Liam, it's not that I don't want to..." Her voice trailed off.

"I want to be a father," I said, pulling away and stepping around the kitchen counter. I needed space, needed clarity. "I want to raise a child with the woman I love."

"I want that too," she said gently, sitting at the counter, chin resting in her hands. "Just... not now. Not like this."

My heart twisted. "Then when, Emma?" I snapped, sharper than I intended. Her guilty look only fanned the flames. "Nothing's ever going to be perfect. I want a normal life. Is that too much to ask?"

She met my eyes. "Having a baby won't give you that. And let's be honest, Liam—you're never going to have a normal life. Not with who's chasing us."

That stung more than I expected. "If we could just try," I whispered, not even sure what I meant, but even that was too much.

She stood, arms crossing protectively over her chest, and turned toward the window. Rain painted thin streaks down the glass—another gray Seattle day. Another day spent waiting for the past to catch up. "I just want to be a family," I said, almost begging. I knew I sounded pathetic, but I didn't care. I was cracking, bit by bit.

"I said no, Liam," she replied, firm. There was no crack in her voice. No room for persuasion.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward, reaching for calm. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, tried to soothe her like she did me. "I know you're scared. I am, too," I whispered, resting my forehead against her neck.

She turned and shoved me back. "You're damn right I'm scared!" she snapped, her eyes blazing. "I'm scared all the time. That I'll call you Liam in public. That you won't come home. That someone will figure out who we are. I meet someone new, and I wonder if Trey sent them. You're not the only one who lives like this."

"I get it," I said, raising my hands. "You think I don't? You think I like this? Hiding behind a fake name, moving like ghosts? I haven't felt like myself in years, Em. I wake up every morning wondering when the past is going to blow our lives apart."

"You think promising me everything will be okay means anything?" she shouted, tears forming in her eyes. "Something already happened, Liam. Or did you forget the scar on your chest? The bullet Trey put in you?"

"I didn't forget," I muttered, barely audible.

"I see that scar, and I see you lying in the snow, dying. I can't forget that. So what happens next time? What if he finds us again? What if he finds our child?"

Her voice cracked and broke as she reeled through imagined horrors. "What if he turns our son into another one of his soldiers? Or worse—what if you end up dead on our doorstep like your father?"

Her words hit harder than any bullet ever could. I tried stepping toward her, tried to hold her, but she shoved me back again.

"That's not fair!" I snapped, my anger boiling over.

"Not fair?" she repeated, voice shrill. "No, it's not. But you know what's even less fair? Bringing an innocent child into a nightmare. I won't spend my life lying to our kid every night, telling them they're safe when I know they aren't. I won't let them live in fear like we do."

"Okay!" I barked, my voice breaking. "I'm sorry I brought it up." She stood there, unraveling in front of me. I stepped forward cautiously. She didn't fight me this time. "I'm sorry," I whispered, wrapping her in my arms. She sagged against me, sobbing. "I don't want to hurt you. I just... I want us to stop living like this."

Her voice was small now. "I can't be happy if you're dead."

I closed my eyes, holding her tighter. "I'm not dead. And I won't let him take our future. Not anymore. He already took so much from me—he won't take you either."

"But he might," she whispered. "He might."

I pressed my forehead to hers. "Then let's stop giving him power over us. Let's stop waiting for him to show up. Let's live. Even if it's just for a little while."

She said nothing. Just cried against my chest. And I let her. I held her through the hiccups and gasps, rubbed her back like she'd done for me a hundred times before.

Then, when the storm began to pass, I kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Let's get away. Just for a while."

She looked up, puffy-eyed. "We can't run. What would I tell my family?"

"I'm not asking you to run. Just take a break. A few days. With me."

She softened a little, her body easing in my arms. "Where?"

I paused, then gave her the only answer that made sense.

"Home."

For the first time all night, a small smile crept across her lips.