“Stop!” Camila intercedes, stepping into the room.
Her eyes flash around, taking in the shambles that used to be a dignified sitting room. She maneuvers her way around the wreckage that litters the floor and comes to stand between us, her eyes sharp and filled with an agony that is painful to witness.
“Turning on each other is not going to get my daughter back,” she says.
Her tone is remarkably calm. She’s steady when she speaks, with a new steel in her eyes when she glances between Bogdan and me.
“It happened. They took her. She’s gone. Now, we have to focus on getting her back.”
I know she’s right. But it feels good to break s**t.
“Isaak,” she says, turning to me. “We need a plan.”
Those words coming out of her mouth have a strange effect on me. I’m both impressed and turned off b
