The alarms scream to life, and red strobes flash across the walls, bathing everything in violent pulses of light.
Somewhere, glass shatters, and there’s shouting followed by gunfire.
That’s when my instincts finally slam into gear.
I’m moving before the second blast finishes echoing, my boots pounding against the floor as I tear toward the window.
I reach it just in time to see the gates collapse inward in a mangled, sparking heap of metal, one side torn completely off its hinges.
So much for ram-proof.
Vehicles force their way through the wreckage, the engines screaming and their tires spinning as armed men spill out with military precision.
They fan out fast.
My security detail barely has time to react before the first two men go down.
A cold, vicious clarity hits me at the first sight of blood.
I thought Adrian would come through lawyers and courts to get to Scout. I thought he would want to look like the reasonable one.
Instead, he came through my front gates with guns.
The bastard isn’t trying to win quietly. He’s trying to prove something to me, and this is what happens when you don’t comply.
Rage courses through me, white-hot and blinding.
My hands curl into fists so tight my nails bite into my palms.
He wants my attention? So fucking be it.
I spin toward the door. “Brennan! Call in reinforcementsnow!”
I don’t wait for his response. I’m already running to find Fiona and Scout.
Ciara, Riley, Kieran, and the babies are all gone, and the thought lands like a small mercy in the middle of chaos.
The house is in lockdown mode by the time I hit the stairs.
Alarms wail.
Footsteps thunder.
Another explosion rocks the estate, even closer this time.
Plaster rains down from the ceiling.
Scout’s room door is ajar.
I skid to a stop and shove it open, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard it hurts.
Fiona is in the corner, her back pressed to the wall, with Scout wrapped tightly in her arms.
His face is buried in her shoulder, his small body shaking so violently it makes me want to vomit.
Her head snaps up when she hears me, but I don’t see any panic in her eyes or manic hysteria. She’s strangely calm.
“I’ve got him,” she says immediately, like she needs me to know. “I’ve got him.”
