His body gives a mighty jerk, almost launching himself off Jade’s lap, but her arm tightens around him like a safety bar, the kind on roller coaster cars so you don’t fly out of the corkscrew curve. She’s the type of mother who wouldn’t think twice about offering herself up for her children. The kind who would take a bullet for her kids, who would shove them onto the shoulder only to end up crushed by the oncoming truck herself. A lioness, her protectiveness as instinctive as breathing. It’s an admirable trait. Not every parent is built that way.

She stares at me, eyes wide over the top of her son’s head, and she doesn’t let him go.

“Come on, Baxter.” I toss the cell to the marble and gesture with my gun—a warning, a promise. He’s sucking hard on a thumb, his smooth cheeks puffing and pulling. I smile to calm his nerves. “Get on over here, son. I need you to do something for me.”

Jade’s gaze sticks to the gun like superglue. “At least let me come with him.”

“Sorry, but that’s a hard no.”

“But Baxter’s only six.”

“Exactly. Plenty old enough to help me out.”

She shakes her head hard enough that her hair whacks her in the face. “But he’s terrified. I’m terrified.” Her voice cracks, and she’s trying really hard not to cry.

“What do you think’s going to happen? What are you so scared of?”

She gives me an incredulous look, searching for words she can say out loud. Without turning her head, she darts a sidelong glance at her daughter, her expression sparkling with meaning. Little pitchers have big ears—and Beatrix’s are practically flapping off her head. This is a kid who knows when to listen.

“I just...” Jade’s voice is a soft squeak. She takes a big breath, swallows. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

She wavers, frozen like a kid on the high diving board. “How do I know that?”

“Because I just told you so. Everything’s going to be A-okay. I won’t harm a hair on Baxter’s head, you have my word. But only if you put him down and tell him to get over here.”

Her body remains perfectly frozen, but something breaks behind her eyes. Her arm loosens some, but she doesn’t let her son go. It’s almost comical how she thinks she still has a choice.

I load every bit of menace into the parts of me she can see. Hard mouth, squinty eyes, a look that says, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. This damn mask isn’t making it any easier to get my point across.