The desert air turned to pure ice. "Twins," Grace repeated, her body shaking so violently that her knees scraped against the cracked concrete of the porch. "It was twins, Colonel. A boy... and a girl."

I didn't park. I rammed my SUV straight into my mother’s parked Bentley, the crunch of metal tearing through the roaring thunder.

I threw open the heavy oak front doors. The grand foyer was dimly lit. Standing at the top of the marble staircase was Marcus—my mother’s head of security, a former mercenary with a neck like a tree trunk and a scar running from his ear to his jaw.

Behind him stood four armed guards in plain clothes.

"Colonel Knight," Marcus said, stepping down the stairs with his hands casually behind his back. "Mrs. Knight anticipated you might be emotionally unstable tonight. She has instructed us to detain you for your own safety."

"Get out of my way, Marcus," I growled, stepping into the hall. Rain was dripping off my uniform onto the polished hardwood floor. "Where is my daughter?"

"You don't have a daughter, sir," Marcus smiled thin-lipped. "You have a military career. And right now, you are committing treason against your own blood."

He signaled his men. Two of them rushed me at once.

The first guard lunged with a stun baton. I ducked underneath his arm, grabbed his wrist, drove my elbow directly into his throat, and slammed his head into the marble banister. Before the second guard could draw his weapon, I swept his legs, grabbed his tactical vest, and threw him through the glass coffee table in the center of the foyer.

Marcus didn't even flinch. He drew a 9mm pistol from his holster. "I was hoping you'd resist, Ethan. Your mother said you were getting soft behind that desk."

Before Marcus could pull the trigger, a loud crash echoed from the upper floor, followed by the high-pitched, terrifying scream of a young girl.

"LET ME GO! DADDY! HELP ME!"

The sound pierced right through my chest. It was real. She was here.

"Move!" I yelled, pulling my service weapon from my holster.

Marcus fired. The bullet grazed my shoulder, tearing through my uniform and drawing blood. I didn't feel the pain. Adrenaline surged through me. I fired two shots into Marcus's tactical vest, sending him flying backward onto the stairs. I leaped over his groaning body and sprinted up to the east wing.

The massive iron door leading to the locked wing was slightly ajar. The heavy electronic lock had been tampered with.

I kicked the door wide open.

The room inside wasn't a bedroom—it was a plush, gilded cage. Toys, expensive dresses, and painted portraits were scattered everywhere, but heavy steel bars covered the windows.

In the corner of the room, crouching under a mahogany desk, was a little girl with long, dark curls. She had Emily's soft features, but her blue eyes were wide with sheer terror.

Standing over her was my mother, Victoria Knight, holding a leather travel bag and a set of passports.

"Ethan!" Victoria turned around, her face twisting into a mask of rage. "You ruined everything! Do you have any idea what I spent to keep this family's reputation intact?!"

I ignored my mother completely. My gun dropped to the floor as I fell to my knees in front of the desk.

"Hey..." I stammered, my voice breaking completely as tears mixed with the rain dripping down my face. "Hey... baby girl."

The little girl looked at me. She saw the blood on my shoulder, but then her eyes traveled up to my face. She looked at my nose, my eyes, the scar above my eyebrow.

"Are you..." she whimpered, holding a worn-out teddy bear to her chest. "Are you the man from the picture Mommy hid under my mattress?"

"Yes," I sobbed. "I'm your dad. What's your name?"

"Mia," she whispered. "She tells me my name is Victoria... but Mommy whispered 'Mia' in my ear before she went to sleep forever."

I reached out my arms. Mia didn't hesitate. She threw herself out from under the desk and wrapped her small arms around my neck, crying hysterically.

"I've got you," I choked out, pressing my face into her hair. "I've got you, Mia. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again."

"How touching," Victoria’s voice cut through the air like a razor blade.

I turned around, shielding Mia behind my back. Victoria was holding a small silver revolver, pointed directly at my chest.

"You always were too sentimental, Ethan," Victoria said coldly, her fingers tightening on the trigger. "Just like your pathetic wife. You were meant to be a general. You were meant to take this family to the White House! And you were going to ruin it all for a poor girl from the desert."

"You killed Emily," I spat, standing up slowly, keeping Mia behind me. "You let her bleed to death!"

"She was a distraction!" Victoria screamed. "And these bastards were going to ruin your image! I took Mia because the Knight foundation inheritance required a legitimate female bloodline by her eighth birthday. Once the money cleared tomorrow morning, I was going to send her away to a boarding school in Switzerland!"

"You're sick," I whispered. "You're a monster."

"I am a mother who protects her legacy!" Victoria shrieked. "And if you stand in my way, Ethan... I'll tell the military you went insane and kidnapped this child!"

Suddenly, the house alarm blared. Red lights flashed through the hallway.

Victoria's eyes darted toward the window. Down below, siren lights were illuminating the driveway. Dozens of military police vehicles and local law enforcement cars were tearing through the front gates.

"What did you do?!" Victoria gasped, her hands shaking.

"I didn't call the police, Mother," I smiled darkly through my tears. "I called the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Military Criminal Investigation Division before I left New Mexico. They've been tapping your phones for three hours."

Victoria's face turned pale as ghost. She stepped back, looking at the gun in her hand, then at the window.