A flurry of snow swept across the hardwood floor, melting instantly into dark spots.

“Goodbye, Elena,” Sophia said, her voice barely audible over the gale.

She slipped out into the storm, the heavy door clicking shut behind her but remaining unlocked.

Luca grabbed my arm, his grip tight and desperate.

“We need to get out of here right now,” he whispered in my ear.

I looked at Marcus, who was already turning toward the back hallway where his security detail was stationed.

The sound of tires crunching on the frozen gravel outside was deafening now.

The headlights swept across the front of the house, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls.

A heavy boot struck the outside of the front door, the wood groaning under the impact.

The wood of the front door splintered with a sharp crack that echoed like a gunshot.

Marcus lunged toward the foyer, drawing a semi-automatic from beneath his tailored coat.

“Get back!” he roared, but his voice was drowned out by the sudden, deafening blast of a shotgun.

The heavy oak door flew inward, tearing off its hinges and crushing the antique console table in the hallway.