His face was completely devoid of color, his surgical precision replaced by a desperate tension.

Behind him, the red warning light on the security panel continued to pulse.

I didn’t try to fight him for the front exit.

Instead, I turned and bolted down the hallway toward the kitchen.

My socks slid on the wood, but I caught myself on the edge of the dining room table.

“Lily!” I screamed. “Lily, run to the back door!”

From the shadows of the living room, a small figure emerged.

Lily was clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit, her eyes wide with terror.

“Mommy?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Come here, baby, right now!” I gasped, grabbing her small, cold hand.

I heard the heavy thud of Nathan’s sneakers behind us.

He was fast, his breathing heavy and ragged in the quiet house.

The kitchen was dark, illuminated only by the green light of the microwave clock.

I pulled Lily toward the sliding glass door that led to the back deck.

This door didn’t rely on the digital master code; it had a simple physical latch.