Men’s voices came from the other sides of the privet hedge, sounding frustrated. The thick bushes blocked them for the moment.

The women would soon be flanked, as Hawk’s westerns would say.

Those western heroes—the Sacketts—often escaped pursuit by fleeing up a mountain. “Where’s a darn mountain when I…”

Her voice trailed off as she spotted a ladder leaning against the side of the house. Stacks of shingles and tools were scattered on the roof.

With yells of success, the men made it into the room and started rattling the handle of the outside door.

Fear swamping her in a cold deluge, Kit ran toward the ladder.

No. Not without the others.

She shoved her panic down and grabbed the nearest woman. “Up the ladder, Serena. Now.”

Serena climbed the ladder onto the roof, followed by Daisy. The older children followed, scrambling up like monkeys. Women carried their babies and younger children, getting help from the unencumbered.

Finally, Mary went up.

Kit had her hands on the first rung when men kicked out the glass and came out the windows into the meditation garden.

She went up the ladder like her feet were on fire and swung onto the roof. “Pull the ladder up!”

The women were herding the children to the steep valley between two roofs—one over the original house and another over a garage add-on. The V would provide a hiding place rather than making them easy targets.

Two of the strongest women started lifting the ladder, hand over hand.

The men let out a yell and grabbed it.

Noooo. Snatching up loose shingles, Kit flung them down at the PZs.

Yelling in pain and outrage, the men batted at the barrage.

The ladder was free.

“Pull,” Mary shouted, and the women hauled the ladder up and out of reach.

The crack of a gunshot sounded, and something stung Kit’s outer arm. Following the others, she dove for the V to get out of sight.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Obadiah’s treacherous bitch up there.”

At the sound of Captain Nabera’s cruel voice, Kit felt her courage shrivel into a tight ball of fear. Her mouth was too dry to swallow.

She edged out enough to look at him. I’m out of reach. He can’t touch me.

The knowledge didn’t help.

His gaze met hers, and his mouth curved in a vicious smile. “Come down, cunt, and I’ll let you live. Otherwise, all they’ll find of you will be tiny pieces.”

As if to make sure she understood, he snapped at another man, “Set the explosives, inside and out.”

They’d blow up the house? Her mouth went dry.

“You’re one of us, and Obadiah’s gone.” Nabera softened his voice. “Lower the ladder, Kirsten. Come down to me, and you’ll live.”