Another sharp crack of wood echoed through the small cabin.

The back door had been forced open.

“Liam?” I whispered, though I knew he wouldn’t answer.

He was still outside in the dark.

Or worse, they had already gotten to him.

Cold air rushed down the narrow hallway, carrying the scent of damp pine and wet wool.

Heavy footsteps thudded on the wooden floorboards.

There was more than one person.

“Check the bedroom,” a rough voice muttered from the dark.

“She’s in here,” another voice replied.

I stepped back into the shadow of the pantry.

A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping across the kitchen table.

The bright light caught the edge of my sleeve.

“Found her,” a man said.

He was tall, wearing a dark tactical jacket and a black watch cap.

I lunged forward, swinging the skillet with all the strength in my arms.

It struck his shoulder with a dull, heavy clang.

He grunted, stumbling back, but another pair of hands grabbed my arms from behind.

I kicked backward, my heel catching a shin.

“Hold her still!” a voice barked.