Blood streaked the white walls on either side of the hall, where Razor Burn had leaned as he’d tried to make it back to the office. The Oriental runner that ran down the center of the hall was darkened with blood where Razor Burn had fallen and crawled. A framed photograph had been knocked off the wall and now lay in pieces on the floor. Archie glanced down as he stepped over it and saw the face of fourteen-year-old Isabel Reynolds smiling up at him from under splintered glass.

When he looked up, Susan and Karim were out of sight. Archie plunged onward, Cooper’s gun clutched in his right hand, his left still trying to slow the flow of blood seeping from his wound.

He saw the first body as he cleared the hallway and entered the main foyer. Ronin lay facedown in a dark pool of blood. His throat had been cut so savagely that Archie could see the white pulp of his partially severed spinal column.

Archie heard a noise on the stairs and spun around, ready to shoot. Leo was crouched halfway down the stairs, shirtless, in black pajama pants, gun drawn. Archie lowered his own weapon slightly, breathing hard.

“I heard shots,” Leo said, scrambling barefoot down the rest of the stairs. The color drained from his face as he took in the carnage on the floor. His lips drew back and he physically recoiled, even as his shooting arm tensed.

Archie had never seen Leo Reynolds afraid before.

The sirens were loud now. Right outside. They reverberated inside the house, an insistent wail.

“What’s happening?” Leo asked hoarsely.

Bloody footprints continued from the body to the left, toward the hall bathroom where Archie had met Lisa Watson, marking Karim’s path. Archie motioned for Leo to follow him. There wasn’t time to explain. “Gretchen’s here,” Archie said. “Karim has Susan.”

Leo didn’t ask any more questions. He looked Archie up and down, his face registering Archie’s alarming condition, and then Leo nodded and raised his weapon. “Let’s go,” he said.

They followed the footprints. Archie limped forward, the sound of Susan’s whimpering echoing in his head. He could feel the gunshot in his gut now. It burned every time he took a breath. Blood spread down his pant leg. But he kept moving.

The footprints continued through the foyer, into the smaller hall that led to the back of the house. This was where the real butchery had happened. Archie counted six bodies on the hall floor—all members of Jack’s security detail, by the looks of them. Blood was everywhere—on the walls, the floor, dripping from the chandelier. The smell of fresh meat permeated the air.