“Noah!” I hissed, my hand clamping around his arm.
He was already moving, his body blocking mine, eyes cutting toward the hallway. “Stay low.”
Another crash followed, the kitchen window this time, and I knew it from the direction, from the way the sound seemed to sink into my bones.
Then voices, low male confident voices.
Boots thudded across broken glass.
“They’re inside,” I whispered, the words tasting like blood.
Desmond swore under his breath and grabbed the edge of the table like he could steady the room itself. His face was ashen, but his voice was grim. “She’s not waiting anymore, she wants to end this tonight.”
Noah snatched the envelope with the documents and shoved it into his jacket, his movements precise, controlled. He crouched by the couch, yanking something from benea
