"We've got the names."

I'm standing in the kitchen with Daisy in my arms, frozen as I look at Hero's phone that's lying on the counter in front of me. It's on speaker, and on the other end, Hanson has just announced both my deepest wish and biggest fear.

Next to me, Hero seems frozen too. I'm still looking at the phone, but I am aware that his gaze is solely on me. I feel it, just like I feel that he's just as shocked and overruled as I am.

They've got names.

"Tell me." My voice is soft but demanding. It's something that I don't immediately recognize as my own, but the last few weeks have changed me, and step by step, I'm starting to get familiar with it.

For a moment, Hanson doesn't speak. I'm not sure if it's because he's distracted or because he didn't hear my demand. And just when I want to repeat my request louder and even more determined, I hear him take a breath.

"I'd like to tell you a little more about how we got them first."

I shake my head, even though I'm aware that he can't see me. "No. Give me the names. I want them first."

I don't know why it is so important for me to hear the names. I've only ever known the name Leonard, and after Hero saved me, it was that name that made what I'd been through real. It was that name that pained me. That owned me. But now, there are more names. And the need to feel it takes me by surprise completely.

Hero wisely doesn't speak. He's letting me do this, and I appreciate it greatly. But I think he senses all the different emotions -familiar and unknown- that rush through me at this moment because without saying anything, he takes Daisy from my hands.

She makes a sound that Hero and I are convinced is laughing, and sure enough, a smile is forming her lips as Hero cradles her against his chest. Her blue eyes are looking at his face in almost an adoring way, and even though the mood is heavy, I see Hero melt when he looks at her too. A small, sweet smile -that he reserves only for my daughter- is his answer to her, followed by a hushing sound in hopes she'll stay quiet and won't interrupt the phone call.

She's fourteen weeks old today, and she's getting wiser by the minute. It's hard to believe that the chubby, happy baby that Hero is holding right now, is the same small, helpless doll that I gave birth to three and a half months ago.

She's changed so much already, even though she is still small. She makes sounds now, and she recognizes me and Hero too. Her smile can light a whole room, and since a few days, she has discovered her feet which she brings to her mouth every chance she's got.

"Josephine," Hanson breaks my thoughts at the other end of the line. "I really think you should-"

"No, Hanson. The names. Please," I interrupt.

In the past weeks, I've talked to Hanson so many times, the wall that was there the first time we spoke is gone. I've yelled at him when he wanted me to tell even more than I already did, cursed at him when he asked for more details. I've cried in his presence more times than I care to admit, and he is one of the persons that can bring out that urge to fight in me.

"Is Hero with you?" He asks, sounding defeated which tells me he's giving in.

"I'm here," Hero pipes up before I have time to answer. His face is tensed, even though Daisy has a death grip on his lip. Her tiny fingers are wrapped around his full lower lip, making it difficult for him to speak normally.

"Good," Hanson answers. "Jorge Amires, aged sixty-five." He throws out the name and age in one breath, almost like he's ripping off a band-aid. There's disgust in his words, no doubt, but I can hear the anger and relief too.

Jorge. If I had to make a wild guess based on his age, it's the quiet man. The one that almost always waited until everybody else was done. He watched mostly which at first gave me some kind of reassurance. But when he eventually did rape me, he was a soulless animal.

Rape. I've never said it like it is until recently. They raped me. Used me. Shamelessly and brutally. It's something that I never wanted to admit out loud because it made me feel ashamed.

Hero was the first one that said it. When I told him what happened, he used the word rape. Up until then, I don't think I realized that it was what happened to me, even though I also don't know what I did think.

Alice said it too. More than once she referred to the events that happened to me as rape. And she encouraged me to use the word too. She said it was part of the acceptance that I needed to gain.

Hanson said it too, and he forced me to say it as well. He needed it in my declaration. He pushed me to say it, went on and on with the same question; what happened to you, Josephine? And eventually, I screamed it.

It felt like a relief.

"You still there?" Hanson's voice comes through the speaker.

"Yes, I'm still here. Go on." I look at Hero and find him still looking at me carefully. He's moved Daisy's hand from his lip, and she is now holding his thumb.

"Right," Hanson sighs, clearly not happy doing this over the phone. "He's a retired pilot, based in Brighton. Divorced in 1999, has no children."

For a short moment, he waits for a reaction, but when that reaction doesn't come and Hero and I stay quiet, he continues.

"Peter Berkwood, fifty-nine years old, and retired. Worked at a bank in Bristol. His wife died in 2007, has one daughter."

I swallow the salty taste that fills my mouth at the last bit of information. He has a daughter. He has a daughter and he still did all those things to me.

I have no idea which of the three older men he is. Frankly, he could be all three but given his age, I think he at least had grey hair, which leaves two in the running.

"Dimitri Luciano, forty-eight years old. has his own barbershop near York. Married and has two sons," Hanson continues. He seems determined to get this over with now.

Dimitri. Now that I hear his age, I know who Peter Berkwood is. He is the grey one with the glasses. Dimitri must be the grey-haired, tanned man.

"The last two names need a little more explanation," Hanson then says, his voice tentative.

I look at Hero, and I can see that his expression is completely different from minutes ago. He's mad. Extremely mad, not even Daisy -who is clenching onto his shirt with both hands- can distract him.

I, on the other hand, am not sure what to feel. There is disgust and disbelieve, but the main anger is still aimed against Leonard because he took me. But I also think that all of this information hasn't sunken in properly just yet.

How could it? Hanson's phone call came completely out of nowhere.

Hero and I were just getting ready to head out. Hero was supposed to play a football game today. The first one since the night he'd found me, and Daisy and I were going to watch. Hero's already wearing his tracksuit, and Daisy is wearing the football shirt he got her for Christmas so she won't fall out of tone.

"Why?" Hero demands, his voice confirming that he is angry. Very angry.

"Henry and William Ashton. Father and son. Henry's wife and William's mother died when he was eleven. They are forty-eight and twenty-five. They were from Ireland originally, but moved to London after Henry's wife died," Hanson explains, straight to the point. It's something that seems to define Hanson; no trailing.

And it's at those names and ages, that the tears suddenly break free. Because I know that one of these two, is Daisy's biological father. It all makes sense now.

They looked alike, even though I only realize that now. Both had brown hair, the older one slightly grey strands near his hairline. They hardly ever spoke, but when they did, it was with the same accent.

Hero finally senses that I need him more than my daughter needs him at this moment because he walks to the couch where he lays Daisy in the corner. In two strides he's back to me, wrapping his arms around me tightly and engulfing me with his warmth and safety. He never felt as safe as he does now.

"I'm here, Jo. I'm here," he whispers, his hands rubbing up and down my back. Hanson wisely stays quiet, probably hearing my sobs and giving me some time.

"How did you find out?" Hero asks, his question directed to Hanson. I can't speak; my wet cheek is pressing against Hero's chest, my eyes blurry because of the tears, and a sob leaves my throat every ten seconds.

Hanson scrapes his throat. "He gave them to us. Leonard." He spits out his name, much like how I do it every time I talk about him. "His supervisor called last night, around ten, and told us he wanted to talk. We went to him and arrived around twelve. Without any explanation or introduction, he started stating these names. Only these names. After, he requested to get back to his cell again."

The first two weeks, Leonard was kept in a temporary place so they could interrogate him every day. But after those two weeks, he needed to get transferred. He's now waiting for his trial just outside of London.

"The information I just gave you, is the information we got ourselves. None of them have committed a crime before, and neither do they have a record. They're as clean as a white sheet," Hanson continues.

Hero takes a steady breath, the beating of his heart drumming against my cheek. He's so mad. "Where are they now?"

"Father and son were arrested early this morning, around four. They were ambushed and it looked as if they were surprised. They're both under interrogation as we speak, but as expected, they deny."

"Jorge Amires is not at his house in Bristol at the moment. We asked his neighbors, and they haven't seen him in weeks. We suspect that he fled. There's a search warrant out for him and we have informed the international department."

The idea that he's still out here scares me, but I don't have time to properly progress it because Hanson continues again. He's honoring my request; he's going to tell everything.

"Peter Berkwood had a heart attack about twelve weeks ago. He passed away two weeks later. We talked to his daughter, and she permitted us to search his things. As of now, we don't think that she knew."

Dead. At least one of them is dead.

"And Dimitri Luciano has left for Italy. We know this because his wife and two sons stayed behind in York. We're already in contact with our colleagues there," Hanson concludes.

"Good," Hero mumbles, his hand moving up and down my back steadily. "You better give those two assholes a hard time, Hanson."

I can feel the rage radiating from Hero. He's tensed and his voice is different. I've only ever seen him like this once before; when Hanson called to say they'd arrested Leonard.

And maybe also when he saw that article, although he did try to stay calm back then.

The lawyers of his mom made sure the article was removed from the site. But as expected, the article didn't automatically leave the internet. It was out there, and Hero got a lot of requests from tv stations.

Of course, he declined. And luckily, my name or Daisy's hasn't come out. We still don't know who leaked the information, but we do know that Hanson has people on that too. He was afraid that the article would affect the case.

And I think he was right; you can't tell me it's a coincidence that two of my assaulters are now gone. They must've read the article too.

"You know I'll do everything in my power," Hanson promises, but then adds, "I have to be honest though; we have nothing on the pair, just Jo's statement and Leonard who gave the names. We took DNA samples, but there wasn't found any DNA of them on the crime scene. It looks like Leonard made sure there wasn't any."

Hero gently pulls my head back, his eyes looking at me questioningly. But I shake my head. I have no idea when he cleaned the place. He could've done it on several occasions. When I was going for my weekly shower, or when I slept.

"Does that mean there is a chance they'll walk out soon?" I ask Hanson, my voice raw. The idea alone is making me nauseous.

"We'll move heaven and earth not to let that happen," Hanson answers. "But, Josephine, there is something that I have to ask you."

I look at the phone, waiting for his question. When it takes too long for Hanson to talk again, Hero is the one that can't contain his patience. "What do you need?"

Hanson sighs. It's obvious that what he's about to ask me, is not something that he wants to ask me.

"What is it, Hanson?" I press.

After another deep sigh, he says, "There might be a way to prove that they were at the crime scene." He's careful, obviously a little insecure too.

"How?" I ask immediately. I want to do everything I can to make sure they won't get out any time soon.

It's amazing how, since a few weeks, I'm so motivated to fight back. It all started with Martha when she told me what had happened to her. Her story woke something in me, and now, I feel like I'm not only doing this for me and Daisy, but also for every other woman that was assaulted too.

Next to me, Hero's expression has changed. He doesn't look as impatient as before, and he frowns as if he already knows what Hanson will ask me.

"If you would let us take a sample of Daisy," Hanson starts, carefully and doubtful. "We could run that across theirs. If they'd match, it'd serve as the hardest evidence imaginable."

Daisy?

I feel the blood drain from my face and I clench onto Hero more as I realize what he's asking me. He wants Daisy as proof.

But if her DNA is theirs, it means I have an answer to the question I've never wanted to ask out loud.

They will know. They will know and they will take her from me.

My breathing fastens, my lungs burning and tears streaming down my eyes as the panic rises. The fear of losing Daisy has never been as real, raw, and realistic as I feel it now.

The thought alone might kill me.

"We'll call you back, Hanson," Hero decides, sensing that I'm blown away and not able to continue the conversation.

While he ends the phone call with Hanson, I sink to the floor, my legs suddenly feeling like jelly. With my back against the kitchen cabinets, I pull up my legs and hide my face on top of my knees, focusing on my breathing in hopes it will return to normal.

"Here, love." Hero's hand on my shoulder makes me look up. "Breathe in this. You're hyperventilating." He offers me a small paper bag. When I don't take the bag from him, he lifts it himself, putting it over my nose and mouth.

"Breathe, Jo. In and out." He nods, reassuringly moving his hand up and down my back in the same rhythm as my breathing. And it calms me.

The burn in my chest slowly subsides, my heartbeat slowing down too. Slowly but surely, the panic fades, and the more I concentrate on Hero and his voice, the more he pulls me back.

"There you go," he mumbles while he sits down next to me. He presses his lips against the side of my head, and when my breathing is not as rigid and fast anymore, he drops the paper bag.

Silence. The only thing I hear is my own heartbeat that drums in my ears still. That, and a million questions that Hanson's suggestion woke in me.

What if I agree? What if Daisy matches with them? For me, the what-if isn't there. I know they will match with her. One of them is her-

I can't even think it, let alone say it out loud. Out of all the scenarios I discussed with Alice, this is the one that we both ignored. It's probably because she knew I wasn't ready, and now that it occurs, I can only fully agree.

I'm not ready for this.

Will they be able to take her from me if I agree? The rational part of me says that it's not possible because they'll disappear behind bars for a very long time. But that other part of me, the irrational, scared of losing everything part, is so afraid that they will take her from me. That they will take her and hide her like they did me.

"You don't have to do this, Jo," Hero says. I can tell he hates the idea too; I hear it in his tone. "You can testify against them, and that along with Leonards's testimony will be enough too. It has to be enough."

"But what if it isn't?" I ask, voicing my fear. "What if they only get two years then, just like-"

I stop myself before I say more, remembering the promise I made to Martha. She doesn't want her children to know and I almost told Hero just now.

I shake my head. "Two years won't be enough for me, Hero. In two years, they will still be able to take Daisy. I want them gone forever."

"Jo," Hero sighs, pulling me against him more. "Even with hard evidence, the chances of them being behind bars forever are about fifty percent. Life-sentence starts at twenty years, you know?"

I know. It's what I talked about with Alice too.

"I already know it's one of them," I tell him, the defeat audible in my words. "She looks like them."

At this, Hero yanks my head towards him so our eyes meet. "She looks like you."

He looks mad now, and I think a part of that anger is also aimed at me for saying this. "But she also looks like them. The brown hair, her pointy nose, her-"

"Goddamnit, Jo, no. She doesn't. I don't want to hear it." he roughly lets me go and stands, wiping his hands over his face before they disappear in his hair. It's long, and he complains about it every day, but he hasn't been to the hairdresser just yet.

I hope it's because I'd told him I like his hair like this.

"Why are you mad at me?" I ask. "It's not my fault she looks like them. I don't want her to look like them either but she does. I know what they look like and she does."

"Fucking shit," Hero curses, now pulling his hair. "I'm not mad at you and it isn't your fault. Of course, it isn't. But I fucking loathe the idea."

"But what choice do I have? I want to fight back!" The tears are back again, and I'm standing as well, suddenly feeling a rush of adrenaline as I realize how true my words are.

I want to fight back. And if Daisy can help me with that, then I'm okay with that. Me and her, we are a team.

Hero's expression softens, and the moment he opens his arms, I know that this time, it's him that needs me close.

Without another word, I step into his embrace. His nose immediately buries in my neck, and I hear how he inhales deeply.

"I'm sorry," he eventually says. "It's your decision. And whatever you decide, I've got you."

I wrap my arms around his waist tightly, silently thanking him for saying that.

"I just hate the idea of anyone intervening in our bubble, you know? I mean, you, me, and Dais, we solid, yeah? I hate the idea of anyone coming in between that." his voice is soft, almost as if he's ashamed of admitting it.

"Nobody will come between us," I tell him, but he shakes his head.

"I know that. I don't mean it in the real sense of the word. It's more that right now, there isn't anyone else for Daisy the way I'm here for her. I know there is someone that she shares DNA with, but it felt like he didn't exist because I had no idea who he is. But now, if you decide to do this, I'll know. I'll have an image of him, and it'll be on paper. I hate that."