I pulled the phone from my pocket.

The screen showed a motion alert from the hallway outside the twins’ bedroom.

“They’re upstairs,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Ryker was already moving before the words fully left my mouth.

He drew a sleek, black semi-automatic from beneath his jacket.

“Marco, secure the lower level,” Ryker ordered.

“On it,” Marco said, heading toward the back exit with his weapon drawn.

I followed Ryker up the winding stone staircase, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The air in the hallway was cold, drafts pulling through the old estate’s floorboards.

We reached the heavy oak door of the guest suite.

Ryker pushed it open slowly, his gun raised, his body shielding mine.

The room was dark, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains.

Two small figures sat upright in the twin beds.

Lily was staring at the window, her tiny fingers gripping the edge of her blanket.

Owen sat beside her, his arms wrapped so tightly around his worn brown teddy bear that his knuckles were white.