Lily looked around at the heavy furniture and the security monitors visible in the study hallway.

“You are safe here,” I told her, kneeling so I was at her eye level.

She did not answer, but she stepped closer to her brother, her shoulder touching his.

Owen was dragging his feet, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Let’s get them washed up and into bed,” Ryker said, coming up behind us.

I took Lily’s hand, which was cold and dry, and led her up the wide wooden staircase.

Ryker followed, carrying Owen once again because the boy was too tired to climb.

We had prepared two adjacent bedrooms in the east wing, the most secure part of the house.

The windows were made of thick, ballistic glass, and the doors had reinforced steel cores.

I helped Lily change into a pair of soft, oversized pajamas we had quickly sourced.

She climbed into the large bed, looking incredibly small beneath the thick down comforter.

In the next room, Ryker was sitting on the edge of Owen’s bed.

Owen had refused to let go of his stuffed bear, even to put on his pajamas.