Page 66 of Falcon’s Forever

I crouch beside Emily and place myself directly in her line of sight. “Look at me.”

Her eyes are huge with fear. “They’re here.”

“I know,” I tell her.

“They found us,” Emily whispers.

“Maybe,” I admit. “But we aren’t waiting to find out.”

I hold out my hand, palm facing up. “Take it.”

Emily’s trembling fingers close around mine. “I can’t move,” she says.

“You can,” I assure her. “You don’t have to feel brave. You only have to stand up.”

Beside us, Sarah crosses the room to Rachel and offers her hand. “Come with me.”

Rachel remains frozen, her gaze fixed on the glass. “I can see the window.”

“Then stop looking at it,” Sarah instructs. “Look at me instead.”

Another shot cracks outside. Rachel flinches, and so does Sarah. Neither of them runs, which is its own kind of strength.

I help Emily to her feet. Her knees nearly buckle, but I keep hold of her hand.

“There,” I encourage her. “You’re doing it.”

“I hate this,” Emily says, her voice shaking.

“I know,” I reply.

Her fingers tighten around mine. “I thought it was over.”

That one almost breaks me, because I understand it too well. "I know," is all I trust myself to say.

The security phone changes tone in Sarah's hand. She reads it.

Security Phone:

North breach contained. Possible second approach at rear property.

My blood turns cold. Rear of the property. That's us.

"Downstairs. Now," I tell them, trying to keep the panic out of my voice, but I don’t think I’m doing a good job.

We move as fast as fear allows, which isn't fast enough for my liking. Halfway down, something slams against the back of the house. Rachel screams. Emily nearly falls and I catch her.

"Keep moving." I urge them.

Glass breaks somewhere below and every muscle in me locks, because for one terrible second I'm not here, I'm somewhere else, a door opening, men coming through, and I have to force myself back into this house, this life, this different ending.

“What was that?” Sarah asks, looking toward the back of the house.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

The security phone crackles in her hand.

“Women’s house, report your status,” Zip orders through the speaker.