Chapter 2 - The Weight of Blood

I stared at the plastic baby monitor as Victor's cruel laughter filled the room.

"I will never make that choice, Victor," I growled into the speaker.

"Then you will watch all three of them burn," the dead voice replied before the connection severed.

A digital timer on the explosive device suddenly illuminated.

It started counting down from three minutes.

"Dante, there has to be a flaw in the weight sensor," I said frantically.

Dante dropped to his knees and examined the pressure plates beneath the cribs.

"If we can slide exact equivalent weights onto the plates as we lift the children, it might trick the sensor," Dante suggested.

It was a desperate gamble, but it was our only option.

I turned to Elena, who was holding her daughter Sophie tightly in her arms.

"Elena, gather every heavy book, statue, and paperweight in this room right now," I ordered.

She nodded silently and began tearing the nursery apart to find heavy objects.

We stacked encyclopedias and bronze bookends onto a nearby scale until they matched Theo's exact weight.

"On my mark, you slide the books onto the plate, and I will lift him," I told Dante.

Sweat poured down my face as I gently placed my hands under my crying son.

"Three, two, one, go," I whispered.

I hoisted Theo into the air just as Dante shoved the heavy stack of books onto the sensor.

The red light on the bomb blinked rapidly for a terrifying second, but it did not detonate.

We repeated the agonizing process for Miles and Nora with barely forty seconds left on the clock.

All three children were finally safe in our arms, but we were still locked inside the rigged room.

"Get away from the door," Dante yelled, raising his heavy weapon.

He fired three consecutive shots into the thick glass of the nursery window, shattering it completely.

"Climb out onto the balcony," I instructed Elena, helping her and the children through the broken glass.

Dante and I dove through the window just as the digital timer hit zero.

The explosion blew the heavy oak doors completely off their hinges and consumed the nursery in a ball of fire.

We lay panting on the cold stone balcony, covered in dust and glass.

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