I knew the wood wouldn’t hold another hit.

I let go of the door and ran toward the staircase.

My boots slipped on the polished floor.

Behind me, the study door burst open with a loud splintering crash.

I reached the top of the stairs and looked back.

Mark stood in the hallway, his face wild and covered in sweat.

He held the iron poker in one hand and the black strongbox in the other.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he said.

He started running toward me.

I turned and ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

My hand slid wildly along the banister.

I reached the bottom foyer.

The front door was wide open, letting in the cold, wet air.

I saw the red and blue lights flashing against the trees outside.

They were here.

But they were still at the bottom of the long driveway.

I ran toward the porch.

“Alana!” a voice called from the darkness near the barn.

It was Ana.

She was running toward the house, holding her phone.

“Stay back, Ana!” I yelled.