“It’s too late for the back door,” Daniel said, pointing to the hallway.

The sound of glass shattering echoed from the first floor.

A cold draft swept up the stairs, carrying the smell of wet earth and rain.

“Megan, stay here,” I whispered, pushing her into the closet.

“Don’t make a sound,” I added, closing the slatted door.

Daniel and I crept back to the top of the stairs, peering into the darkness below.

The kitchen door banged open against the wall.

Heavy, wet footsteps squeaked on the linoleum.

“I know you’re up there,” Ethan’s voice boomed through the empty house.

It didn’t sound like him anymore; it was raspy, frantic, and desperate.

“Give me the papers, and nobody gets hurt,” he called out.

The sound of his footsteps moved closer to the stairs.

I could hear him breathing heavily, gasping for air.

“I have nothing left to lose,” he shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

“They are going to take everything from me,” he yelled.

The beam of his flashlight swept across the living room ceiling.

“Where is Rose?” he demanded, his voice shaking.