“Storm Sandoval.”
Storm is silent for a long moment, but then all calm breaks in my body when he grinds out a single word: “Lakeland.”
I scramble across the bed, pressing my ear against his cell phone to pick up the other end of the conversation.
“Nephew, how are you enjoying your family reunion? Pretty precocious kids you have there. Has anybody told you that they look just like your Mama?”
Storm practically vibrates, standing and rushing to the wall where he moves aside a painting, and a gun safe comes into view.
“I’m gonna fucking annihilate you,” Storm says in a voice so dark, it makes my arms break out in goosebumps.
His spine straightens, and after several tense heartbeats, he slams the phone into the ground.
I’m stunned for a second, but then shout, “What’s going on!” I lurch off the bed, reaching for my clothes. Storm steps into long pants and boots, lacing them up faster than I’ve ever seen anyone dress. He spins back to the safe, punches in the code, and yanks out an AR-15—plus four extra clips.
“What’s happening!” I shout again, sliding in front of him when he storms toward the door. His face twitches, as if just now recognizing I’m in the room with him.
“Sweetness. You need to stay here—go to the safe room in the closet, and I’ll get the kids into theirs.” My eyes widen as if he’s talking Greek, which he might as well be for all the sense he’s making.
“We’re in imminent danger?” I ask, trying like hell to catch up quickly, despite him not saying much.
“Yes,” he grinds out.
“And you want me to sit in the safe room while our babies are out there with the danger?” I push past him and head to the gun cabinet, grabbing the modified shotgun from the case. I stuff some ammo in my jogger pockets and check the chamber to make sure the gun’s loaded and ready to blow some heads off.
“I need you to stay here, Shae. Please, let me make sure you’re safe,” he says, tension straining his voice.
“Letmemake sureyou’resafe!” I shout back. “Isn’t this what we’re supposed to do? Be partners? So let’s stop wasting time and get the fuck on!”
He seems to contemplate that for a second before nodding. I stalk past him, but he grabs my arm.
“Keep your eyes open and don’t get hurt,” he orders, then crushes his mouth to mine like it might be the last time. I refuse to believe that, though.
“Kids first, then you’ll all get in the safe room,” he says. I’m about to either argue with him or agree when aslamfrom somewhere deep inside the housebreaks the quiet, and terror sizzles down my spine.
“Storm!” I shout, but we’re both on the move, sprinting down the hall toward the twins’ rooms.
Immediately, there’s a body on the ground just steps from our door. The guard whose name I don’t know stares at the ceiling, a neat hole in his forehead and blood pooling around him.
I don’t scream. I don’t break down. Instead, I stiffen my spine and step over the fallen man.
Storm keeps his gun up as we move down the hall, and when we reach the opening separating the side with my room and the kids, I stare in horror.
Littered across the floor are nearly every guard we have on the property. At least twenty corpses, all with kill shots.
“How did we not hear this?” I whisper, my lips numb.
“Silencers,” Storm mutters, his face blank but his eyes spitting fire. “But how did they get taken down like this?”
I start to feel cold. Very, very cold.
“Kids. We need to get to them,” he says, and my pulse speeds up nearly to the point of arrhythmia as we run toward their door.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Storm and I skid into their rooms.