“How did they find this place?” I asked. “No one knew we were coming here.”

Roman didn’t answer.

He gripped my wrist and pulled me toward the back door.

“We run for the tree line,” he said. “The woods lead to the old highway.”

He pushed the kitchen door open.

The cold night air hit my face, smelling of rain and wet earth.

We stepped out onto the porch.

“Stop right there,” a voice called out from the darkness of the yard.

A flashlight beam blinded us.

I squinted, raising my hand to shield my eyes.

“Drop the weapon, Roman,” the voice said.

It was Elias.

He stepped into the light, holding a shotgun leveled at Roman’s chest.

Behind him, three other guards stood with their rifles raised.

They were all wearing the Blackwell security uniform, but their patches had been torn off.

“Elias,” Roman said, his voice deadly quiet. “You made a mistake.”

“No,” Elias said, a cold smile touching his lips. “I made a choice. Moretti pays in cash, not promises.”

“You sold us out,” I said, my voice shaking.