"The wifi in this place sucks." Roman grumbles as he presses his cheek against the window pane, his hand stretched up holding his phone as high as he can. 

"It's wifi, Roman. Not cell service, and no amount of window licking is going to get you better connection." I mutter, turning my face back down towards the papers in my lap. 

Roman, Luka and I have scattered all the documents that Roman found regarding my mother and possible maps across the slightly stained floor of the motel room. Outside the window it's pitch black, with tints of yellow from a flickering street lamp, and tinged red from the brake lights of passing cars. 

I pick up a new paper, studying the words. 

"What is dulces?" I ask Luka, but his gaze still stays stuck on the map in front of him, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. I had completely forgotten that he wore glasses, and in any other time I would have laughed at his nerdy attempts to keep the large glasses from slipping off his straight nose. But not now. 

"Sweets. Candy." He mumbles, circling another random junction between two of the map's lines with the shortened tip of a pencil. I move closer to him, my chin almost touching his shoulder as I lean down to look at the spot he circled. 

"I really don't think they're holding my mom in an abandoned Wendy's." I scoff, imagining the situation. Although, I would be more comforted if my mother was being held in an old fast food joint, instead of the more likely environment of a dirty cell somewhere damp. 

"How is all this looking and circling supposed to help?" I grunt, standing up, and reaching for another drink of cheap wine that Roman had found in the closet. Don't ask. 

"Do you have a better idea, princess?" Luka's tone drops on the last word, dripping with annoyance. 

"Well-" I start confidently, flailing my arms upwards, before realizing that I had no idea how I was going to end that sentence. 

"You're the one with the evil daddy, aren't you supposed to have the inside scoop?" I sound so immature right now, but at the moment, I couldn't give too fucks. 

For the past weeks we've been running and looking and thinking and crying, and the only place all that has gotten us is a moth-bitten motel with some very questionable stains in the creases of the bathroom tiles. 

"Look, all these maps are from my father's office." Luka says, waving his arms to indicate the large pile. "None of them seem to be of the same place, but there are some spots like this," He points his finger at a set of roads that he circled. "That match similar spots on the other maps. So maybe-"

"Maybe we can find a spot where they all intersect!" I finish for him, dropping to my knees and gathering a handful of papers in my hands, my adrenaline suddenly pumping furiously again. 

"He's a regular Sherlock Holmes, he is." Roman mumbles from the corner, his eyes still staring out at the parking lot. He says he's keeping watch, but I'm guessing he doesn't want to be in the way. 

Luka and I spend the next hour tracing the maps, trying to find some clue as to where she could be. We have found nothing. 

I throw my head back, groaning as I stand, my knees cracking with the sudden movement. 

"This isn't working, Luka." I whisper, rubbing my eyes with the backs of my fists. 

He doesn't respond, his eyes trained on a piece of paper scrawled with words, scanning it over and over. 

"Luka." I try to  break him from the trance, but it's like he can't hear me. His glasses begin to slip down his nose, but he doesn't make a move to shift them back. 

"What was your mother's first name?" He asks quietly, not turning to face me. 

"Rose. Rose Emerson." I mumble back. "Why?"

His face snaps to meet mine, and there's a crazed but impossibly focused look in his eyes. He stands quickly, brandishing the paper in the air like a flag. 

He stops and stares at the page, as if making sure he read it correctly. 

"Read this." He moves over to stand next to me, his shoulder brushing against mine and I peer down at the browning paper. 

"Marcel thanks you for the flower shipment. You know how much he loves roses. Please respond with instructions on how to care for them." I read aloud, my brow furrowed. 

"Who cares if Marcel likes roses? I mean, it's a little feminine even for him, but-"

"Katya, these people would never plainly say that your mother was successfully transferred somewhere. This could be a code."

I stare at him, then back at the page, my eyes filling with unconscious tears. 

"Rose." I whisper, rereading the phrase again. 

"Rose!" I scream, jumping up and down for a moment. Without thinking, I fling my arms around Luka's shoulders. He stiffens, his entire back growing taut as my arms wrap around him. Slowly, his calloused fingers wrap around my waist, hugging me lightly. 

My mind is running a million miles per hour, but for once, I don't mind the speed. Because for once, I feel like my thoughts have direction, a purpose. Like a race to the finish. 

"Is there anything that says where she is?" I ask, pulling away from Luka's hold. His jaw is loose, so odd for him. But he shakes his head. 

"Not yet, but know we know what we're looking for. What could some other code words have been for your mother?"

I sit back down on the ground, scanning my eyes over the mountain of pages. 

"I don't know, but now I know what I'm looking for."

Roman is passed out against the window, his cheek squeaking every so often as he slips down the glass surface, a light drop of drool hanging down. 

Luka and I are seated, our legs crossed, looking over page after page. 

We've found a few more references to flowers and roses, but nothing to indicate an address. The feeling of elation from the discovery of the code is fading, helplessness filling my heart once again. 

My eyes droop slightly, accidentally reading the same lines two, three, and even four times before realizing. 

"Katya, get some sleep, you've been at this for hours." Luka's whisper startles me, the entire room having been silent for so long. 

"No, no, I'm fine." I grumble, shaking my head slightly. 

"Seriously, I've got this." His hand goes out to my knee, grasping softly. The touch seems to warm me, his fingers wrapping around the skin of my jeans. Like a branch to hold onto. 

"Okay, but wake me if you find anything." I whisper back, beginning to stand. 

That's when we hear the sound of several car doors slamming, the muffled hum of motorcycle engines whirring. 

I move quickly to the window, spotting the line of black SUVs in front of the motel. Shit. 

"Roman! Wake up! We've got to go, now." I shake Roman awake, who immediately perks up, moving to grab some things off the bed. 

I stuff the papers on the floor into a duffle bag, not caring if they tear or wrinkle. 

Luka is already on his feet, his hands moving into his bag, pulling out a silver handgun. 

"We parked in the back of the motel, we need to go. Now." I nod at him, moving behind Roman's chair and pushing him out into the hallway. We can hear voices in the lobby, all with that same gruff tone that all of Iago's men have. 

We move as quietly as possible, and make it to the car just as the men burst through the back door of the motel. But I've already put Roman in the backseat, and Luka is already beginning to drive away before they can even scream stop.