The connection severed with a sharp beep.

On the wall monitor, the ventilation status indicator shifted from green to a pulsing yellow.

The air vents above our heads let out a soft, hissing sound.

A faint, sweet smell began to drift down from the ceiling.

I coughed, the sweet taste coating the back of my throat.

Nathan grabbed my arm, his grip so tight my fingers went numb.

“The nursery,” he said.

We ran out of the study and down the long, carpeted hallway.

The overhead lights flickered, casting long, erratic shadows against the wood-paneled walls.

My heart hammered against my ribs as the sweet smell grew stronger in the corridor.

“Emma! Lily!” Nathan called out, his voice cracking.

We reached the heavy oak door of the nursery and flung it open.

The four girls were huddled together on the lower bunk of the bed, clutching their stuffed animals.

Grace was crying quietly, her small face buried in Sophie’s shoulder.

“Daddy?” Emma whispered, looking up with wide, frightened eyes.

“Hold your breath, girls,” I said, pulling the hem of my sweater up over my nose.