“Christ.” Jeb rushed toward the door and jabbed numbers on the pad. When he yanked the door open, Malone was immediately behind him, hearing a commotion down the hallway, urgent footsteps, frantic voices.

“- in back!”

“Breached the -”

Outside, a burst from an assault rifle was followed by a scream and another explosion. Jeb ran along the corridor, yelling to Malone, “Stay here!”

Like hell, Malone thought, then charged after him. In the foyer, the two guards he had struggled with earlier had drawn their pistols, aiming toward the front entrance. Other guards raced along corridors.

Louder gunfire, a third explosion.

I have to find Sienna, Malone thought.

In the foyer, he turned toward the middle corridor, where he saw Laster and his two assistants rush from a room halfway along on the left. Laster’s face was pale as he slammed the door shut behind him, grabbed a guard running past, and blurted questions.

Malone whirled toward the guard he had earlier struck in the stomach. “Give me a pistol.”

Sweat beading his forehead, the guard stared toward the front entrance and didn’t seem to hear him.

“Listen, damn it, I need a pistol!”

“Go back to your room!” Laster shouted, reaching him.

“Where’s Sienna?”

An explosion shook the front doors. Smoke appeared at the end of the middle corridor. Although the exterior of the house was made of metal and glass, reinforced to withstand an attack, the interior’s wooden walls and beams had caught on fire. Outside, the shots intensified. Then suddenly the shooting wasn’t outside any longer. Malone heard an ear-torturing burst from an assault rifle. Rapid single shots from pistols followed. The smoke worsened.

“Go back to your -” Laster started to repeat. Gunfire interrupted him.

“Tell me where Sienna is!”

“I don’t understand how they -” Laster spun toward an assistant. “Get the woman.”

The assistant stared at the smoke churning toward him and backed away.

“Get her!” Laster repeated.

“Where is she?” Malone demanded. “In the room you just left?”

Laster whirled toward the sound of an explosion outside.

“Damn you.” Malone took a deep breath and shoved past. As the smoke enveloped him, it stung his eyes and blurred his vision. For all he knew, it was poison gas, but he didn’t allow himself to think about it. He had to find Sienna. In the swirling haze, he couldn’t tell how far along the corridor he had gone.

He reached a door, turned the knob, and thrust inside. “Sienna!” The room was free of smoke. Sweet air entered his lungs. Then smoke gusted in, but not before he saw that the room was empty. There weren’t even any sheets on the bed.

In the last of the unfouled air, he took another deep breath and lunged back into the smoke-filled corridor, rushing farther. “Sienna!” He shoved open the next door and found another empty room.

From down the hallway, he thought he heard a muffled cry. “Chase!” Was he imagining it? Was he making himself hear what he wanted to hear? He ran to the next door, and this time when he charged in, she was there before him, rushing toward him. Coughing, he wanted to slam the door behind him to prevent the smoke from spilling in, but he realized that he’d be locking them in, that he had to keep the door open. He grabbed a chair and braced it between the door and the jamb.

They held each other. He wanted to keep his arms around her forever, but as nearby gunfire made her flinch, the smoke began to fill the room.

“Help me,” he said. “We need wet towels.”

In the bathroom, he filled the sink with cold water. Sienna grabbed two towels and plunged them in, soaking them.

The gunfire was closer. Smoke reached the bathroom.

Coughing, Malone pressed a dripping towel against his face. Although it was hard to breathe through, the moisture filtered some of the smoke. But that wouldn’t last long, he knew. As Sienna covered her face with the other towel, they made their way toward the door.

He shoved the chair aside, grasped Sienna’s hand, and entered the chaos of the hallway. Someone ran past, not seeing them in the smoke. Shots at the end of the corridor made Malone crouch, forcing Sienna down with him. He led her to the right, toward the foyer, where he had been with Laster and his assistants. Jeb? Where was he?

Unable to see the floor, Malone almost tripped over something. A body. Sienna made a choking sound. He released her hand and stooped toward the corpse. His hand touched warm, sticky liquid on the unmoving chest. He felt a suit and wondered if the body belonged to Laster or one of his assistants. He checked the body’s right hand, found a pistol, and shoved it under his belt. He probed the inside suit pockets and found a wallet, which he also grabbed.

The moment he shoved the wallet into his jeans, he urged Sienna farther along the corridor. The wet towel became harder to breathe through, the smoke too thick. Sienna coughed. But Malone wasn’t afraid that the sound would attract attention to them – there were too many other sounds: shots, screams, racing footsteps, the roar of a fire at the end of the corridor behind them.

He kept his shoulder against the wall. Then suddenly the wall was gone. He’d reached the foyer. But the area seemed abandoned. The shots, screams, and footsteps became eerily silent, the only noise the growing whoosh of the flames behind him. Is everybody dead? he wondered.

“Chase!” someone called.

Malone spun.

“Chase!”

The hoarse voice was Jeb’s. To the right.

Worried that someone might be forcing Jeb, Malone took the towel from his mouth long enough to whisper to Sienna, “Grab the back of my belt. Don’t let go.” He returned the towel to his mouth. Not that it did much good any longer. The smoke was too strong. As she grabbed his belt, he pulled out the pistol he had taken from the body.

“Chase!” Jeb sounded closer. At once he appeared amid the smoke, his face red from coughing, startled by the weapon Malone pointed at him.

As smoke seared Malone’s throat, he could barely say, “Get us out of here!”

Jeb tugged his arm, leading him to the right. Outside, two shots made Sienna tighten her grip on Malone’s belt. Abruptly Jeb reached a door and opened it, pulling them into a dimly lit room. The area was comparatively free of smoke, and as Malone and Sienna breathed in, trying to fill their lungs, Jeb quickly closed the door.

But this is a trap, Malone thought. How are we going to leave the building? Immediately he noticed concrete steps leading downward.

“There’s a utility tunnel that goes to the pool house,” Jeb said.

Malone didn’t need to hear any more. He and Sienna ran down. At the bottom, they paused only long enough for Jeb to find a light switch and flick it on. A concrete corridor was lined with doors. Pipes passed along the ceiling, interspersed with glaring bulbs.

As Malone ran, his labored breathing echoed. He and Sienna threw their towels into a laundry area. A door banged open behind them. They raced harder.

The corridor turned sharply to the left, bringing them to an unlit segment of the tunnel. It was cool, damp, and smelled of mold. The instant Malone rushed around the corner, he took cover in the shadows and aimed back along the corridor.

At the far end, footsteps clattered down the stairs. Four men rushed into view. They held assault rifles, one of them shouting, “Check every room!”

As the men split up, Malone held his fire. There were too many men. They were too far away. He glanced toward Jeb, whose strained eyes seemed to be reading his thoughts. Jeb cocked his head toward the continuation of the tunnel, as if to say, Our best chance is to get the hell out of here.

Hoping that the sounds the men made would prevent them from hearing other sounds, Malone, Sienna, and Jeb hurried on. But the farther they went from the lights at the other end of the tunnel, the more darkness gathered around them. They had to slow, feeling ahead of themselves to make sure they didn’t bump into something.