“What transition team?” Charles asked.

“The one that doesn’t leave survivors,” the Senator said.

The silence came back, heavier this time.

The rain seemed to fall faster, turning the gravel under our feet into slick mud.

Charles looked at the dark house on the hill.

The windows of the estate were tall and dark, reflecting the gray sky.

Inside, I knew Emily was waiting.

I knew Ryan was there, probably holding her by the wrist, telling her she would never leave.

My hand tightened around the grip of the pistol inside my pocket.

“Let’s go,” the Senator said, turning toward the SUV.

“Donald, wait,” Charles said.

“We are going to get the girl, Charles,” the Senator said, his voice hard. “And then we are going to pray Arthur lets us live through the night.”

The Senator did not wait for an answer.

He climbed back into the passenger seat of the SUV.

Charles stood in the rain for a moment longer, his expensive hair now wet and plastered to his forehead.

He looked at me, his eyes full of a hatred that was rapidly turning into terror.