It was terrifying in its own way, because she never loved anyone or anything as much as she loved that tiny, scrunched-up little human in her arms.

But it was only one person. She could handle that.

Peter says he’s so sorry. But he never understood his responsibility. She doesn’t know if that was because he wasn’t raised as a warrior/savior/monster-hunter, or if it was part of the general cluelessness of fathers. He would walk away while Grace was at the park, or while she was climbing a tree, or riding her bike. “I need to take this call,” he’d say.

At those moments, she wanted to scream, It doesn’t matter what you need!

It would have been pointless. He would have sulked and been hurt and she would have had to make it up to him later (and yes, this was one of the many stones laid down on the path to their divorce).

Alana could never explain to him, never make him see, that when you are given another life, some options are then closed to you. What you want is not the most important thing in the world anymore. Some days, it doesn’t even make the top ten.

Now Grace is gone. Because she’d trusted him to look after her. All he had to do was keep her safe, and he couldn’t manage it. He’d been too busy. Too focused on his own needs.

She’s glad he’s not within reach. She wants to kill him. She still might, next time she sees him.

“I’ll be back before tomorrow,” she says, cutting off his stream of apologies. “Go home,” she says. “Wait for her, in case she manages to get away.”

She methodically shuts down all the dark possibilities coming to life in her head, one by one. She has to focus. She has to find her daughter and bring her home, and it will not help to panic. She is already planning her next moves, her trip to the airport, what she will do when she lands in San Diego.

“Do you think she might get away? Could she really do that?” Peter asks. She hears the gratitude in his voice. She’s given him hope.

“She’s stronger than you think,” Alana says, and hangs up. She can’t stomach listening to another word from him.

Deep down, a part of her knows that she’s blaming Peter when she should be blaming herself. This would not have happened if she’d been there. She left her true responsibility to take care of Middleton. She picked up the sword and came running back home, as if nothing had changed.

She knows she screwed up. Now she hopes Grace will not die for it.

She throws clothes into her bag, on hold with the airline. There’s a knock at the hotel room door.