The Truth About Us (The Truth Duet Book 2) Read online

  As the paramedics arrived, I basked in the knowledge that all of my hard work and sacrifice had bought a little boy a second chance at life. In that moment, all the reasons why I’d wanted to become a doctor in the first place came flooding back.

  Pablo Picasso once said, “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”

  I’d known from the tender age of seven when my next-door neighbor had skinned her knee and I’d splinted her leg before going to get her mom that medicine was my gift.

  It was time for me to give that gift away to others who needed it.

  “Thank you,” the frazzled mother called out to me as I backed away, a newfound resolve invigorating me.

  I simply nodded and placed my hand over my racing heart, feeling as though I should be the one thanking her.

  When I lost sight of her behind the wall of first responders and Nosy-Nellies, I turned on a toe and headed back to Lucas’s stroller.

  Only to come to a screeching halt less than a second later.

  He wasn’t there.

  I scanned the area, assuming I’d gotten turned around during the chaos. But, after a few seconds, it hit me. Something was wrong.

  Terribly, earth-shatteringly wrong.

  “Lucas,” I called as if my six-month-old were going to answer me.

  He didn’t.

  In fact, no one did.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my pulse skyrocketed. The world moved in slow motion around me as I spun in a circle. My mind reeled with possibilities of where he could be. But, even in that moment of terror, I knew with an absolute certainty that I’d left him right there, buckled safely into his stroller, only a few yards away.

  “Lucas!” I yelled, my anxiety soaring to immeasurable heights.

  With frantic movements, I jogged over to the slowly dispersing crowd.

  I caught a woman’s arm before she could pass me. “Have you seen my son?”

  Her eyes startled, but she shook her head.

  I scrambled to the next woman. “Have you seen my son?”

  She too shook her head, so I kept going, grabbing people and begging they would finally nod.

  “Green stroller. Navy Trim?”

  Another headshake.

  My vision tunneled and my throat burned, but I never stopped moving.

  He was there. Somewhere. He had to be.

  My heart slammed into my ribs as yet another rush of adrenaline—and what I feared was reality—ravaged my body.

  “Lucas!” I screamed.

  My thoughts became jumbled, and I lost all sense of rationality. I raced to the first stroller I saw. It was pink with white polka dots, but he could have been inside.

  “Hey!” a woman yelled as I snatched the blanket off her baby.

  Her baby. Not mine.

  “Lucas!”

  Bile burned a trail of fire up my throat. With every passing second, my terror amplified. I raked a hand into my hair as the paralyzing helplessness dug its claws into me and threatened to drag me down to my knees. I forced myself to stay on my feet.

  For him, I’d do anything.

  “Lucas!” I choked one last time, a wave of trembles rolling through me.

  One word.

  It had worked for her. That other woman. When she had been desperate and at risk of losing her son, I’d given him back to her.

  Someone would do that for me.

  They had to.

  “Help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  One word.

  And then my entire world went dark.

  To keep reading, buy The Darkest Sunrise here.

  Other Books by Aly Martinez

  The Retrieval Duet

  Retrieval

  Transfer

  Guardian Protection Agency

  Singe

  Thrive

  The Fall Up Series

  The Fall Up

  The Spiral Down

  The Darkest Sunrise Duet

  The Darkest Sunrise

  The Brightest Sunset

  The Truth Duet

  The Truth About Lies

  The Truth About Us

  The Wrecked and Ruined Series

  Changing Course

  Stolen Course

  Among the Echoes

  Broken Course

  On the Ropes

  Fighting Silence

  Fighting Shadows

  Fighting Solitude

  Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her husband and four young children.

  Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys cheap wine, mystery leggings, and baked feta. It should be known, however, that she hates pizza and ice cream, almost as much as writing her bio in the third person.

  She passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a super-sized tumbler of wine by her side.

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