“You fought with them?”

“Dutch, you saw what I am. That surprises you?”

“Everything about this surprises me.”

A knock on the front door caught my attention. Uncle Bob answered it, his expression grave. The Loehrs walked in with Mr. Alaniz, the PI, trailing them. I sank into the nearest chair. Not this. Not now. Why were they here? What would this do to our already splintering relationship?

“Anything you want to tell me?” Reyes asked, his movements sharp and quick. “I asked you not to contact them.”

“I know,” I said, shame engulfing me.

“So I did it instead.”

I blinked up at him. “What?”

“After a while, after the thought of Beep and having a family, I understood what you meant. They deserved to know what happened to me. So I contacted them months ago.”

“But, how did you know I contacted them as well?”

He indicated Mr. Alaniz with a gesture.

I gaped at him. “You were in on it the whole time? From the beginning?”

Mr. Alaniz nodded, shame lining his face.

“Even the letter and the ultimatum that I tell Reyes the truth?” I said to the man I thought was my PI.

“I was trying to force your hand,” Reyes answered for him. “You’d contacted them against my wishes. I wanted you to tell me. To be honest with me.”

I wanted to apologize, but all I could think about was my daughter being sent away from me because I was the one thing in the universe that would lead to her death.

“I saw something else,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow. “It was my father who had me kidnapped in the first place, taken from the Loehrs.”

“Reyes,” I said, aghast. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. They were my only contingency plan.”

“What do you mean?” When he didn’t answer, I put two and two together. “They’re going to take Beep?”

“For now, until we can figure out our next step.”

“But that would mean you knew this was going to happen. You prepared for us having to give up our child.”

“I suspected. It was always a possibility.”

“I didn’t!”

He bowed his head. His sorrow was just as great as mine, his pain just as agonizing. “They’re good people, Dutch. They’ll take good care of her until all this is over.”

“But they’re going into this blind. They don’t know who she is. What she’s up against. They’ll be taking her under false pretenses, and they’ll be in danger.”

“You’re wrong,” Mrs. Loehr said. I turned to her, studied her kind face, her olive skin, her hair, just as thick and black as it had been when she’d first lost Reyes. “We knew Reyes was a gift from God. We knew he was special. He told me his name the moment he was born. Rey’aziel.”

“‘The beautiful one,’” I said, translating his name.

“Yes. That is one interpretation,” Mr. Loehr said. “But it actually means ‘God’s secret.’”

I blinked in surprise. They were right. In the ancient angelic language, it meant “God’s secret.”

Reyes scoffed gently. “I appreciate the euphemism, but God did not send me.”

“Actually, he did,” Mrs. Loehr said. “And nothing you say will ever convince me otherwise.” When her voice cracked, Mr. Loehr placed a gentle arm on her shoulder.

“You were an answer to our prayers.” She focused on me then. “We will keep her safe until you come back for her. And then we pray we can be a part of her life.”

My throat tightened at the thought. My heart ached, struggling to beat under the weight of my sorrow.

I looked at Mr. Wong as he walked up to me. He had allowed everyone to see him. A good thing since he’d taken a turn with Beep and, to everyone’s chagrin, refused to give her up. Until now. He handed her to Mrs. Loehr, her eyes bright with emotion as she cradled my daughter in her arms. All I felt was the good in her. The love. The desire to help her son, her granddaughter, in any way she could.

It hurt too much to look at Beep, so I looked at Mr. Wong instead, suddenly very aware of who he was.

“You’re like … like my second-in-command.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgment.

“And your name is most decidedly not Mr. Wong.”

“Just as your title is most decidedly not Your Majesty, Your Majesty. But, if I may be so bold, they will both do for now.”

I smiled at him. “You knew Osh would tell me.”

“I’d hoped, as I was forbidden to.”

“By whom?”

“You.”

“That’s right,” I said, remembering. “And the hellhounds?”

“They are yours to command,” he said. “As am I.”

I stood and walked to the hellhound I’d stabbed all those months ago, recognizing him. He’d hovered over me for quite some time after I’d stabbed him. I thought at the time it’d been preparing for an all-you-can-eat Charley buffet, but he’d actually been protecting me. All along, everything they had done was for my—and Beep’s—protection. Even patrolling the border of the sacred ground was to keep me on it. Not the other way around.

I touched the wound I gave him. “I’m sorry for that.”

His response was something akin to a purr but more like the low hum of an idling Bugatti engine. He nuzzled my hand, pushed his head into my side.