We both froze.

The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the rain-slicked gravel outside.

The engine cut out, leaving only the sound of the rain.

Then, the sound of car doors opening and closing echoed through the yard.

There were multiple men.

I looked at Aries.

He pressed his back against the wall next to the door.

He drew his weapon, his finger resting lightly on the trigger.

“Stay down, Sienna,” he whispered.

I gripped the edge of the wooden desk, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The doorknob began to turn.

The lock clicked.

The door slowly began to swing inward.

The door swung wide, letting in a cold gust of wind that smelled of wet asphalt and low-tide salt.

A figure stepped through the threshold, his heavy black raincoat glistening with water.

It was Killian.

Behind him, two men in dark tactical gear hovered in the shadows of the gravel yard, their faces obscured by the brims of their caps.

“Aries?” Killian called out, his voice low and searching.

Aries did not make a sound.