“Thomas is a lot of things, but he isn’t brave enough to do this alone.”

“He brought it here, didn’t he?”

He looked past me, his eyes targeting the hallway that led to the bedrooms upstairs.

“There is nothing here,” I said, trying to block his path, though my small frame was no match for him.

Marcus reached out and grabbed my arm, his grip like a steel vise.

His thick fingers dug into my skin, right through the fabric of my woolen sweater.

“Let go of me,” I gasped, pulling back with all my weight.

“Where is the package, Kiera?” he demanded.

He leaned in so close I could smell the stale coffee and damp earth on his breath.

“If Thomas thinks he can run with it, he is dead wrong.”

“He has nowhere to go, and neither do you.”

I looked down at his hand on my arm, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I needed to get away from him.

The back window of the kitchen was only a few feet to my left, just past the sink.