He fought back, his boots scratching against the linoleum.

The door to the office was closed, but the heavy thud of boots could be heard in the hallway outside.

The security team was approaching the inner perimeter.

“In here!” Madison screamed from her position under the desk.

“Help us!”

The footsteps grew louder, a rapid, rhythmic pounding on the wooden floorboards of the main house.

I held Hayes pinned against the wall, my forearm pressed against his throat.

The gun was still in his hand, but he could not raise it.

His face was red, his breath coming in shallow gasps as I cut off his air.

“Drop the weapon,” I said.

“Never,” he wheezed.

He made one last desperate heave, trying to throw me off.

The door to the security office rattled as someone threw their weight against it.

The lock groaned.

On the desk, the transceiver beeped again.

“Captain Brooks, report,” the radio demanded.

I couldn’t reach the button to reply.

The door frame splintered with a loud crack.

A second strike hit the wood, sending a shower of splinters into the room.