Protective wall again.
The sound came a second time.
Slow footsteps.
Coming up the stairs.
Trigger moved toward the hallway fast.
“Stay behind us.”
Lightning flashed violently through the shattered bedroom.
And then?—
Ava appeared at the top of the staircase.
Dripping wet from the storm.
Holding a gun.
Every weapon in the room was immediately aimed at her.
Her eyes widened slightly.
“Well,” she muttered, “this feels hostile.”
“No kidding,” Trigger snapped.
Wolf held up the photograph.
“You wanna explain this?”
The second Ava saw the picture?—
the color drained from her face.
Not guilt.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Oh no.”
Hersh’s voice turned deadly calm.
“You knew us before Isabel.”
Ava looked between all of us slowly.
Thinking fast.
Too fast.
“You need to lower the guns.”
“Incorrect,” Trigger replied.
