I ignore my racing pulse and pull out my phone, trying to dial Aiden’s number as calmly as possibly. I watch as they frown at Aiden’s Challenger in the driveway, my blood rushing in my ears. What’s happening? This can’t be just a friendly visit. I can’t see them from where I’m standing anymore.

“Did you forget something? I hear you knocking, I’m coming,” Aiden’s teasing voice greets me through the phone.

“No, don’t!” I can’t rush the words out fast enough. “That’s not me, Aide—”

There’s a loud bang. I can hear it from where I’m standing on his neighbor’s driveway.

“Aiden?!”

There’s some rustling, some yelling, and I can’t take it anymore. I take off at a sprint, thinking of nothing but Aiden and his brothers. Aiden, Jason, Jackson. Aiden, Jason, Jackson, runs through my mind with every furious heartbeat and every slap of my feet on the asphalt.

When I get to Aiden’s house, his front door has been kicked in, and my mind registers that that’s what the bang must’ve been.

Some part of my brain stops me just as I’m about to charge into his house. Somehow, through the fear and panic, something allows me to think logically. Some part of my brain is staying calm and telling me not to race in helplessly and be no help to Aiden or his brothers.

Seconds later, I’m racing around to the side of his house and hopping the fence into the backyard, scraping my knees in the process. I stalk through his backyard as quietly as possible, remembering that the sliding door is open and that they would hear me.

The sight punches me right in the stomach as I peer in a window at the side of the house. Aiden’s there, in the kitchen, back rigid and shoulders squared, holding the twins behind him, his unwavering gaze fixed solely on Andrew and the gun in his hand.

I feel dizzy, like someone has their hand around my neck and is slowly squeezing.

Ducking down and out of sight, I dial 911 with shaking fingers. Every ring lasts an eternity.

“Nine-one-one,” comes a woman’s voice.

“Hi, my name is Amelia Collins and there’s been a break-in. Three boys are being held at gunpoint.” My words are rushed and low. I recite Aiden’s address, grateful that I know it by heart.

“The police are on their way, Amelia. Where are you? Are you safe?” The operator’s voice is calm, greatly juxtaposing how I feel right now.

I pop my head up to look in the house and suddenly her reassuring tone isn’t good enough. They’re talking, but it doesn’t look calm, and there’s still a gun pointed at the man I love.

What am I doing? Aiden would never sit around and watch as I was in trouble. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.

The woman on the phone is saying something, but unless it’s “The police are there,” I’m not really interested. Instinct guides me as I hang up on the 911 operator, then slink over to the back door and crouch down. Their voices are audible through the mesh of the screen door, but now they can see me if they look down.