“They’ve bypassed the front door,” Marco said, his voice breathless but steady amidst the noise.

“I’m moving her to the bathroom.”

“Can you get to the vehicle?” Ryker asked.

“No,” Marco said. “They’ve boxed us in. I need to clear the hallway first.”

Another burst of gunfire cut him off, followed by the sound of heavy boots kicking open a wooden door nearby.

The line crackled with static as the signal began to waver.

On the floor of our safe room, the tied-up intruder began to groan, stirring awake.

I looked at Ryker, my chest heaving, the sound of the gunfire still ringing from the small speaker.

I reached down and grabbed the heavy brass paperweight from Ryker’s desk.

My fingers wrapped around the cold metal, my knuckles aching.

On the floor, the man groaned again, his boots scraping against the polished hardwood.

Ryker did not look at him.

His eyes were locked on the speakerphone, his jaw set so tight the muscle in his cheek twitched.

“Marco, I am sending the backup SUV now,” Ryker said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal register.