Inside the study, the door flew open.

Grant stepped out, holding a silver pistol in his right hand.

He looked directly down the dark hallway toward the nursery.

His eyes were wide with panic.

“Vanessa,” Grant yelled. “Get the girl. Now.”

I drew my weapon, the cold steel of the grip solid in my palm.

Grant did not see me in the shadows of the hallway.

He was focused on the stairs, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths.

“Marcus, freeze the accounts now,” I whispered into my collar mic.

“Confirming,” Marcus said. “The clearinghouse has accepted the transaction. Initiating seizure protocol.”

Inside the study, a sudden, high-pitched alarm began to beep from the laptop.

“What is that?” Vanessa’s voice was sharp with panic.

Grant spun around, his boots scuffing the hardwood floor as he ran back into the study.

“It’s a security override,” Grant said, his voice cracking. “The terminal is locking down.”

I moved silently down the corridor, keeping my back to the wall.

Through the open door of the study, I saw the blue light of the monitor reflecting off Grant’s pale face.