“Alright,” I said. “I have it.”

We turned to leave the room, stepping back out onto the landing.

Suddenly, a bright beam of light swept across the downstairs foyer wall.

We stopped instantly.

The sound of heavy boots echoed from the floorboards below.

Roman’s hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me back into the dark bedroom.

We pressed ourselves against the wall next to the doorframe.

I held my breath, my heart pounding against my ribs.

The light downstairs swept back and forth, cutting through the dusty air of the foyer.

“How many?” I whispered, my voice barely a breath.

“Two, maybe three,” Roman murmured, his head tilted as he listened.

His hand went to the inside of his jacket, resting on the grip of his pistol.

The heavy footsteps moved from the foyer toward the dining room.

They were searching.

“We need to know what’s in here before we run,” I whispered, looking down at the mahogany music box in my hands.

“Not now, Lena,” Roman said.

“If they catch us, we lose it anyway,” I urged.

He looked at me, his eyes dark and calculating, then nodded once.