“You’re working with Gideon,” I shouted from behind the desk. “We know about the offshore accounts.”

Celeste laughed. It was a sharp, unpleasant sound.

“Knowing doesn’t matter if you aren’t alive to testify, Tessa,” she said.

She gestured to the men behind her.

They stepped forward, their boots crunching on the broken glass.

Suddenly, Ryker’s phone buzzed on the desk.

The screen lit up with an incoming call from a Washington, D.C. area code.

I looked at Ryker.

His eyes met mine.

The phone kept ringing, its vibration sliding it slowly across the polished wood toward the edge.

I reached out my hand to grab it.

At that exact moment, the heavy wooden doors of the study were blown off their hinges.

The force of the blast knocked me flat against the floor.

Plaster dust rained down, blinding me for a split second.

I coughed, wiping my eyes as I tried to sit up.

Through the haze, I saw Marco. He was standing in the doorway, his weapon raised, his face covered in soot.

“Ryker!” Marco shouted. “They’ve breached the kitchen! We have to move the children now!”