Blaze’s POV
11:32 p.m. — South Carolina
“Of Diego?”
I stared at the phone.
Morgan's voice came through the speaker.
“Yes.”
Edge was beside me before I could say another word.
“Where was it taken?”
“Inside his room. After the family arrived at the secure facility.”
Domingo slammed his palm against the table.
“Whoever took that photograph had access to the patients.”
Chain was already typing.
“Send me the image.”
“True's forwarding it now,” Morgan answered.
I dragged a hand down my face.
Thirty-six hours without fuckin sleep.
Seven children rescued.
A gunman inside Ava's facility.
And now somebody was photographing an eight-year-old boy who'd already suffered enough.
“Blaze?”
Ava's voice.
“Yeah, Darlin’?”
“I'm okay.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't. You're probably imagining
