“And you’re going to take the blame for the offshore deals.”

“The police have the files, Paul,” Ethan said.

“They have the files I gave them,” Paul corrected him.

“The files that point directly to you.”

The sound of a door clicking open behind us made me freeze.

A shadow fell across the concrete floor, coming from the side entrance.

I turned my head slowly, my heart stopping in my chest.

Standing in the doorway was Carl Brenner, his coat covered in snow, his hand holding a heavy iron bar.

He saw us.

His eyes widened, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face.

“Well, well,” Brenner whispered.

“Look what we have here.”

Before I could move, he raised the bar and stepped forward into the light.

And the silent warehouse erupted into noise as the struggle began once more in the dark.

The metal bar hit the wooden crates with a deafening crash, sending splinters flying into the air.

Mary screamed, her voice echoing through the rafters.

Ethan turned, his eyes finding us in the shadows.

“Evelyn, run!” he shouted.