MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE ME $500 FOR CHRISTMAS. THEN SHE LOOKED AT MY MOTHER AND SAID FIVE WORDS THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING.

"Get away from my mother!" Clara screamed, racking another shell into the chamber of the smoking shotgun.

The sudden detonation threw Blackwood’s men into chaotic confusion. Julian reacted instantly, driving his shoulder into the guard in front of him, sending the heavily armored mercenary crashing over the dining table into the fireplace. Hot coals and sparks erupted into the air, igniting the tattered curtains.

"Nola, take Ruth!" Julian roared as he tackled the second contractor to the floor, wrestling for control of the submachine gun.

Gunfire ripped through the kitchen. Maeve fired two wild rounds toward Clara, the bullets thudding harmlessly into the thick timber doorframe, before Blackwood grabbed Maeve’s collar, dragging her back toward the rear kitchen exit. "Forget the boy! The extraction team is at the coast! Move!"

I lunged forward, drawing the hunting knife from Julian’s belt, and slashed through the barbed wire binding Ruth’s wrists. The wire shredded the palms of my gloves, biting deep into my skin, but I didn't feel the pain. Ruth tumbled forward into my arms, gasping, her body limp with exhaustion.

"Can you walk?" I screamed into her ear over the deafening roar of the burning room.

"The lighthouse..." Ruth gasped, coughing violently as dense black smoke filled the ceiling. "Cape Elizabeth... Victor has a sea-plane waiting at the old keeper's station... if he reaches it, the ledger... everything is lost!"

Julian slammed the butt of his rifle into the mercenary's temple, dropping him cold onto the flaming linoleum. He spun around, grabbing Clara by the arm as she scrambled through the broken wall. "Everyone out! The propane tank behind the stove is leaking!"

We burst through the splintered back doorway into the freezing night just as a massive fireball erupted inside the cottage. The concussion threw us into the snowdrifts, a wall of heat searing our backs as the kitchen windows exploded in a shower of molten glass and flame.

I dragged Ruth to her feet, Julian supporting her other side, while Clara covered our rear with the shotgun.

Down the gravel road, the red taillights of Blackwood’s black limousine were already disappearing into the blinding white storm, speeding east toward the rocky coast.

"We have to take the highway cut-through," Clara yelled through the screaming wind, her coat charred, her face streaked with soot and blood. "Route 1 hits the Cape Elizabeth cliffs before the coastal road does. We can cut them off at the keeper’s access road!"

Julian looked at his truck; the windshield was spiderwebbed with bullet cracks, but the heavy diesel engine was still idling faithfully in the brush.