Mr. Jameson grabbed his walkie-talkie. “Search the entire estate—every room. Don’t leave anything unchecked,” he ordered. “Everyone to the safe room.”
Millie stopped cold. “The safe room?” she breathed. She didn’t even know where it was, or if she was supposed to go there at all.
Panic surged. She bolted down the hall. “Clara!” she yelled.
A window caught her eye. She looked out—and her stomach dropped. Armed men were rushing onto the property, rifles raised, moving fast. Fear punched the air from her lungs. She didn’t think anymore; she just ran, shouting Clara’s name as she tore through rooms and hallways, her panic climbing.
She rounded a corner too quickly and collided with Sheila, almost knocking them both over.
“What are you still doing out here?” Sheila snapped, grabbing Millie
