Isabella stared at the screen, her face turning pale under the dim light.

“They don’t need to trace the room,” she said. “They already know we are in the building.”

A sudden, sharp metallic clang echoed from the hallway outside.

It sounded like a heavy iron pipe hitting the concrete floor just yards away.

We all froze.

Adrian reached into his jacket and pulled out his black firearm.

He moved silently to the door, pressing his back against the brick wall next to the frame.

Isabella reached into her handbag and pulled out a small, sleek automatic pistol.

“Get the children,” she whispered to me.

I quickly knelt by the cot, pulling Lena and Noah into my arms.

Oliver woke up with a soft gasp, his eyes wide with fear as he looked at me.

“Stay quiet, sweetie,” I whispered, my heart racing against my ribs.

The silence in the hallway was suffocating.

Then, the heavy brass handle of the metal security door began to turn.

The brass handle clicked.

Adrian raised his gun, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the black steel.