Whatever happens, do not let the gunman in the house. That’s how people get killed. That’s how entire families end up in a pool of blood. As soon as you let the gunman into the house, you’re already dead.

I hold out my left hand, offering up my wedding band and an old, battered Rolex. “I have jewelry. Some money in the safe. Loads of electronics. Go inside and take whatever—”

“Quiet. This is how it’s going to go. The four of us are going to walk outside and move slowly and calmly to the back door, where we will stand like silent little statues while you dig your keys out of your bag and let us in. No running or trying to get away. No flailing and hollering for the neighbors. And once we’re inside, I’d think real long and hard before you tap some secret code that’s going to call in the cavalry.” His gaze flits to the kids, and one of them—Baxter, I think—squeaks. “It’d be a shame if the cops showed up, wouldn’t it, Mom?”

The secret code! A silent alarm that lets the control room know someone has forced his way into the house. The technician who installed it entered a code straight down the middle of the keypad, but Cam and I were supposed to change it because every criminal on the planet knows the 2-5-8-0 trick. But did we change it? And if so, to what? My thoughts are too tangled up with terror to remember.

“What do you want?”

“I already told you. I want us all to go inside, quietly. I want you to turn off the alarm without me having to use this thing.” He lifts the gun by his head, jiggles it in the air. “I don’t want to hurt you or the kids, Jade, but I will. What happens next is up to you.”

My mind flips through my options, at gunpoint and with two small children. Fight, one of us gets shot. Run, we get shot in the back. I consider lunging for the gun, sacrificing myself for my babies, but what will happen to Beatrix and Baxter then? I don’t know anything about guns. I have no clue how many bullets this one holds. Enough to kill all three of us multiple times, I’m guessing.

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. Just please, please let the kids go.” My voice cracks on the words. Behind me, Baxter starts to cry.

The man puffs a breath, a put-out kind of sigh. “Already you’re making this harder than it has to be. I’ll tell you everything you need to know as soon as we’re inside.”