“They mapped the IP address,” I said. “Every smart device in this house is pinging their server right now.”

The wind rattled the large glass panels of the kitchen window behind them.

A heavy pine branch scraped against the metal gutter with a sharp, screeching sound.

Julian looked at Harris, then back at me.

“We have ten minutes,” Julian said.

“More like five,” Harris said, his hand dropping to his utility belt.

“Get the phone, Julian. Now.”

Julian lunged forward into the small pantry.

I pulled my hand back, tucking the phone against my ribs.

The metal wire shelf bit hard into my shoulder blades, knocking a stack of canned tomatoes to the floor.

“Don’t do this,” I whispered. “There are twelve thousand people watching this feed.”

“They are looking at a screen in their warm living rooms,” Julian said, his face inches from mine. “They can’t stop me.”

His hand gripped my left wrist.

His fingers were cold and smelled of damp earth and gasoline.

I pulled my arm back, but his grip tightened until my fingers went numb.

“Let go,” I gasped.