Heather gripped Alex's hand tightly as they stepped into the hallway. Asher clung to her shirt, his small fingers balled into a fist.
They'd barely made it past the corner when gunshots rang out again—loud, sharp cracks that made Heather's stomach drop.
She froze. The noise came from downstairs. What now? Wasn't it supposed to be one man? Were there others?
Heather quickly pushed the boys into the corner against the wall. "Stay here," she whispered, pressing her palm against Alex's chest to keep him still. She peeked around the staircase.
From where she stood, she could see the guards at the entrance firing at two men. One was already on the ground and not moving.
The other man, dressed in black, was trying to shoot back, but he was outnumbered. He wasn't going to make it.
Her eyes locked on Adams. He was at the foot of the stairs, waving his hand fast, motioning for her to go back.
