“Put it on speaker,” Agent Reyes added, already nodding to his assistant to trace the signal.

I tapped the green button and held the phone between us.

“Hello?” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“Hannah,” a panicked voice hissed through the line.

It was Logan.

He sounded like he was running, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

“You have to tell them to stop,” Logan stammered. “Dad is crazy, Hannah. He had a backup plan.”

“Where are you, Logan?” Jake demanded, his voice dropping into his commanding officer tone.

“I’m in the parking garage near the downtown office,” Logan sobbed. “Dad hired someone to purge the estate accounts and lock down your house’s smart systems. He set the furnace to shut off and the gas valves to open. The whole place is going to fill with gas.”

My heart leaped into my throat.

Our home, the place where we had built our life, was being turned into a bomb.

“Reyes, call the gas company and the local fire department now,” Jake ordered.

Reyes was already on his landline, barking orders to his team and dispatching emergency services to our address.