Marcus tapped the screen, trying to clear the static, but the picture only grew worse.

A low hum vibrated through the floorboards of the study.

The lights in the hallway flickered once and went completely dark.

“The power grid is down,” Marcus murmured, his hand dropping to the desk drawer.

He pulled out a silver revolver and checked the cylinder with a sharp, metallic click.

I gripped my purse tighter, my arm pressing against my stomach where my baby lay safe for now.

Footsteps echoed on the marble tiles outside the office.

They were slow, deliberate, and entirely too familiar.

The heavy oak door swung open, creaking loudly on its brass hinges.

Luca stood in the doorway, his dark wool coat dusted with melting flakes of wet snow.

His face was pale, his eyes wide and bloodshot under the hall’s emergency lights.

“Put the gun down, Marcus,” Luca said, his voice shaking slightly.

Marcus did not lower the weapon, keeping his arm steady and aimed at his brother’s chest.

“What did you do, Luca?” Marcus asked.

“I did what had to be done to end this,” Luca replied, stepping fully into the room.