Before Lorenzo could move, a sharp click sounded from the wall panel behind us.

The emergency sirens began to wail, a deafening, high-pitched shriek that filled the corridor.

The red emergency lights flashed on, bathing the entire hallway in a blood-colored glow.

Evan lunged backward, slamming his elbow into Lorenzo’s wrist.

The Glock fired, the sound of the gunshot exploding in the narrow corridor like a clap of thunder.

The bullet struck the marble bust, showering us with white dust and chips of stone.

I screamed as Evan grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin with familiar, terrifying force.

“You’re not leaving this hallway, Hunter,” Evan whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my cheek.

Lorenzo struggled to regain his balance, his eyes locked on the nursery door where Halloran had disappeared.

Through the red, flashing light, I saw the shadow inside the nursery move toward the crib.

The baby began to cry, a thin, weak wail that was barely audible over the roaring sirens.

Evan tightened his grip on my shoulder, dragging me backward toward the heavy mahogany wainscoting.