The attacker returned fire, the bullets tearing through the drywall and sending plaster dust raining down on my head.

The dust smelled like chalk and old insulation, making me choke.

“How did they find us?” I gasped, coughing through the white haze.

“Leo,” Adrian said, his eyes scanning the dark kitchen. “He has people everywhere.”

“But nobody knew about this cabin,” I said.

He looked at me, his face pale in the blue light coming through the broken windows.

“They didn’t find me, Claire,” he said. “They found you.”

The man in the kitchen took a step forward, his boots crunching on the broken glass.

Adrian didn’t wait for him to clear the doorway.

He threw his weight against the old refrigerator, shoving it with all his strength.

The heavy metal box tipped and crashed onto the floorboards, pinning the man’s leg beneath it.

The man let out a sharp cry of pain, his gun slipping from his grip and sliding across the wet floor.

Adrian stepped over the appliance and fired once, silencing him.

He grabbed my hand again, his palm slick with sweat despite the freezing cold.