She lunged, the knife flashing, and slashed at George. He jerked back, but the blade caught his forearm. Blood welled up as he cursed and stumbled backward.
The knife flew from Kelsey’s grip as George backhanded her, sending her sprawling across the floor.
“The knife!” Gina shouted as the weapon skittered toward Joe.
George raised the gun toward Kelsey. Then came the sharp crack—wood, not a gunshot—and the window shuddered violently. A board splintered inward, another followed, and snow and wind whipped into the room. Nick’s vision blurred in the wind and stinging flakes, and for a moment, he couldn’t see a thing.
The temperature dropped sharply. Cold bit through him. George was shouting something, but the words were lost in the howling wind.
George staggered backward, trying to shield his face from the sudden assault while keeping the gun raised. The wind roared so loudly Nick couldn’t think, and debris whipped through the air like missiles. He used the chaos to finally work his hands free from the rope, the howling storm masking any sound.
Across the room, shapes shifted through the swirling snow, indistinct and fleeting. Kelsey was crawling toward where the knife had fallen, while Gina worked frantically at Brooke’s restraints with her freed hands.
“Gina!” Kelsey cried, sliding the knife across the wooden floor toward the bound women.
Gina grabbed it with her free hand and went to work on the ropes tying her to Brooke.
“Nobody moves!” George shouted, struggling to stay in control. He pressed his injured arm tight against his side while his other hand fought to keep the gun steady. Snow and debris tore at him, and every moment made it harder to keep his targets in sight.
“Run!” Nick shouted, bracing his feet against the floor and yanking hard. The old chair legs splintered and broke, and he crashed to the floor as the chair collapsed beneath him. He rolled away from the broken wood and scrambled to his feet, finally free.
Joe had managed to get loose while Gina and Brooke worked to untangle themselves from the last of their restraints. Wind and snow poured through the broken window, piling into drifts that claimed half the room.
“The door!” Brooke shouted, pointing toward the hallway. “We have to get out of here!”
George raised the gun, squinting through the blowing snow. “Nobody goes anywhere!” But the wind coming through the broken window was so strong he could barely keep his footing, and his injured arm was hampering his movements.
Nick grabbed one of the broken chair legs before running to Gina’s side, hoisting her up by the arm as she freed herself from the last rope. “Move! Everyone to the trucks!”
They stumbled out of the dining room and into the hallway. Kelsey reached the front door first, but the wind pushing against it made it impossible for her to open.
“I’ll help!” Brooke shouted above the din.
George yelled something from the dining room, but Nick couldn’t catch what it was in the mayhem.
“Go, go!” Brooke cried. “He’s coming.”
Joe appeared, bear spray canister in his hand.
Nick positioned himself between George and the others as footsteps pounded through the dining room. The broken chair leg felt solid in his grip—not much of a weapon, but better than nothing.
George appeared in the doorway, gun raised and steady now that he was away from the chaos of the broken window. Blood from his injured arm had soaked through his jacket sleeve, but his aim was clear.
“Drop it!” George shouted, pointing the weapon directly at Nick.
Nick didn’t hesitate. He swung the chair leg like a baseball bat, catching George’s gun hand before he could pull the trigger. The impact sent George stumbling backward into the dining room, the gun clattering across the hallway floor.
“Now!” Nick yelled to the others. “Get that door open!”
Brooke and Kelsey threw their combined weight against the front door. It burst open, letting in the full fury of the storm. Wind and snow blasted through the hallway as they stumbled outside into the blizzard.
The wind was so fierce he could barely stand upright. Snow whipped around them with blinding intensity, and the cold cut through his clothes like knives.
George was suddenly in the doorway behind them, no longer armed but desperate and furious. “You’re all dead!” he screamed over the howling wind. “You can’t get away from me!”
He lunged at Gina, seizing her by the arm and yanking her close. George twisted her slightly, keeping her off balance while planting his feet firmly in the snow, using her as a shield as he squared off against Nick.
Joe lifted the canister, hesitating. The wind whipped around them, and George had Gina pulled too close. If he sprayed now, she’d get hit too.
