I watched the knuckle of his trigger finger.

It was whitening slightly.

He was preparing to pull the trigger again.

“You can’t cover this up,” I said, stepping slightly to the left to draw his focus away from Madison.

“The distress signal is already active.”

“Active to whom?” Hayes asked.

“This is a private estate, Natalie. Your local sheriff’s department is twenty minutes away.”

“I didn’t use the civilian lines,” I said.

On the desk behind me, the military-grade transceiver hummed quietly, its small red LED blinking in the dark.

The frequency was secure, encrypted, and direct to the regional garrison.

Hayes looked at the transceiver, his brow furrowing for a fraction of a second.

“A bluff,” he muttered.

But his eyes lingered on the blinking light.

In that split second of distraction, I measured the distance between us.

Four feet.

He had the advantage of the firearm, but his stance was slightly off-balance from his step forward.

Richard let out a choked cough, his fingers twitching against the floor.

“Natalie…” Richard whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain.

“The safe… under the desk.”