I shoved it deep inside the oversized pocket of my heavy canvas coat.

“Hey!” Marcus roared, turning back to face me.

He lunged forward, the iron poker swinging through the air.

I ducked, the metal whistling just inches above my hair, and threw my weight against the back door.

The latch gave way with a loud crack.

I tumbled out into the freezing mud and the pouring rain.

The cold air hit my face like a slap.

“Get her!” Marcus screamed from inside the kitchen.

I scrambled to my feet, my boots slipping on the wet grass.

I didn’t look back at the house.

I ran toward the thick tree line where I had seen the silhouette.

The rain blinded me, stinging my eyes and soaking through my wool sweater in seconds.

“Kiera! Over here!” a voice hissed from the shadows.

It was Arthur.

He was standing behind a thick oak tree, holding a heavy iron flashlight that wasn’t turned on.

He grabbed my arm with surprising strength for an old man.

“Keep moving,” Arthur whispered, pulling me deeper into the brush. “They have the driveway blocked.”