“Have you seen my daughter?”
“No, ma’am. I think she ran toward the road.”
The rain didn’t fall that night.
It attacked.
Sheets of water slammed against the empty highway outside the city, thunder cracking so loud it shook the trees. Lightning tore the sky open again and again, turning darkness into blinding white flashes.
And through it ran a child.
Eight-year-old Lily Harper stumbled out from a muddy trail, her small bare feet slipping on gravel. Her pink dress—once bright with flowers—was soaked and torn at the edges. Rain plastered her curls against her cheeks. A bruise darkened the side of her face.
She wasn’t running toward something.
She was running away.
Behind her, through the rain, a figure shouted her name.
“Lily! Get back here!”
Lily’s chest burned. Her lungs felt too small for the air she needed. She didn’t dare look back again.
Then headlights burst through the storm.
A sleek black luxury car sped down the empty road, engine low and powerful. Lily froze in the middle of the lane, terror locking her tiny body in place.
“Please! Stop!” she cried, lifting her shaking hands.
Inside the car, the driver gasped. “Sir—there’s a child!”