Ryker quickly snatched the fallen man’s rifle and slipped the extra magazines into his own pockets.

He looked over at us, his blue eyes piercing through the gloom.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No,” I managed to say, my throat dry as paper. “We’re okay.”

“They breached the southern perimeter,” Ryker said, checking the corridor outside. “They knew exactly where the security blind spots were.”

“How is that possible?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, his jaw tightening until the muscle twitched.

From the floor above, a heavy explosion rattled the foundation of the house.

The ground shook, and several wine bottles slid off the shelves, shattering on the stone floor.

The smell of spilled alcohol mixed with the acrid scent of smoke.

“Marco is holding the main staircase,” Ryker said, turning back to us. “But there are at least six more inside the house.”

“Who are they?” I whispered.

“Professionals,” Ryker said. “They aren’t here for a ransom. They want the children, and they want the drive.”

I looked down at Lily, who was staring at the body of the first mercenary behind the crates.