Dr. Sullivan picked up the needle, his face pale as paper.

He looked at the door, then back at Luca.

“I’ll need you to hold his arm,” the doctor whispered.

I leaned over the table, gripping my baby’s tiny, hot forearm.

The steel door at the top of the stairs was thick, but we all knew what C4 could do.

Giovanni walked to the center of the room, his gun drawn, his eyes fixed on the entrance.

“Get ready,” he said.

The monitor on the wall showed the mercenary connecting a wire to the doorframe above.

Then, the screen went black.

A muffled, heavy boom shook the concrete walls of our sanctuary.

Dust fell from the ceiling, settling on the metal table.

Luca screamed, the high, thin sound cutting through the sudden silence.

The lights in the panic room flickered, died, and then the red emergency backups kicked on.

In the crimson glow, I looked at the door.

From the stairwell outside, we heard the first heavy footsteps descending.

The footsteps grew louder on the concrete steps.