“Stay behind me,” I said. “If anyone comes, you get the kids back into this room and lock the door.”

She nodded, her jaw set.

I opened the heavy door a crack and peered into the corridor.

The hallway was empty.

The muffled sound of the wind howling against the superstructure of the yacht was the only noise.

I stepped out, my gun raised, gesturing for Rachel and the children to follow.

We walked in a tight line toward the stairs.

The children walked with their heads down, their breathing shallow and fast.

As we reached the base of the stairs, a loud buzzer sounded from the deck above.

The lights in the corridor flickered and turned from white to a dull, emergency red.

“The alarm,” Rachel whispered, her hand gripping my arm.

“Keep moving,” I said.

I started up the stairs, my eyes scanning the landing above.

The glass doors of the main salon were visible at the top of the steps.

Through the glass, I could see the snow swirling violently on the deck outside.

A shadow crossed the glass.