Owen squeezed his stuffed bear against his chest, his eyes wide and vacant.

Lily didn’t make a sound, her small fingers digging into the fabric of my jeans.

The red line of the laser sight swept across the crack beneath the door.

It lingered on the floorboards, a bright, blood-red dot that seemed to burn through the darkness.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel of the corridor outside.

They were heavy, measured, and deliberate.

This was not Marco.

Marco’s stride was lighter, always balanced on the balls of his feet.

These steps belonged to someone wearing heavy combat boots.

The doorknob rattled.

My heart hammered so hard against my ribs I was certain the intruder could hear it.

I reached down and found a heavy, empty wine bottle on the bottom shelf, my fingers wrapping around the cold glass neck.

The lock on the oak door groaned under pressure.

“Step back,” a voice whispered from the darkness beside us.

I flinched, nearly dropping the bottle.

Ryker emerged from the shadows of the far corner, his face a pale mask of concentration.