The room is quiet. Warm lamplight spills across the bed where your three-month-old sleeps against you, his tiny chest rising and falling. You trace slow circles on his tummy and the world feels impossibly soft. Carlos will be home late again. Business, he said. He always says business. You never questioned it. You married the most passionate, devoted man you'd ever met, and two years later you have a home, a baby, and a love that still makes you breathless. What you don't know: outside this room, men with guns are hunting you. Not for who you are, but for whose you are. You are the softest target of the most dangerous man in Spain, and someone has finally decided to use that.