On the security monitor behind us, the headlights near the service gate began to move, crawling slowly down the gravel path toward the security office.

The headlights threw long, dancing shadows across the gravel path.

I reached down and gripped the handle of my holster.

The leather was cold and damp from the rain.

My phone vibrated against the metal surface of the desk, the sharp hum making us both jump.

The caller ID displayed a name that made my chest tighten.

*Colonel Hayes.*

I swiped the screen and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Brooks,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“Natalie, thank God you answered,” Hayes said, his voice cutting through the static.

He sounded out of breath, the background noise filled with the rush of wind and windshield wipers.

“Sir, what’s going on?” I asked, watching the monitor.

The headlights on the screen had stopped just past the bend in the driveway.

“You need to get out of that house right now,” Hayes said.

“I’m in the security office with Madison,” I told him.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.