The security monitors on the wall went completely black.

The only light left in the room was the battery-powered glow of Tessa’s laptop screen.

Downstairs, the heavy iron security gates groaned as they were forced open.

The sound of tires crunching on gravel echoed up the driveway.

“They cut the main line,” Ryker said, standing up.

He pulled a black handgun from the holster beneath his jacket.

“Tessa, close the laptop and put it in the safe,” Ryker commanded.

“But the video—” I started.

“We don’t have time,” Ryker said, his eyes fixed on the dark hallway outside the study door.

The sound of footsteps began to echo from the grand foyer downstairs.

Heavy, confident footsteps.

And then, the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door.

Ryker grabbed my arm, his grip tight and steady.

“This way,” he whispered.

He pulled me toward the back of the study, where a floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcase stood against the dark wallpaper.

Tessa followed close behind, holding the glowing laptop against her chest like a shield.

Ryker reached behind a heavy bronze bust of historical legal codes on the third shelf.