“What’s happening?” Ethan sits up, alarmed. His eyes trail his father.

“Get dressed,” I say, grabbing my own boots and coveralls.

There’s a low whistling sound, then a crash as our front window shatters. Something explodes, rumbling the floorboards beneath us.

“What was that?!” Ethan presses his palms to his ears.

I snatch Ethan. He’s weightless as I tear out of our room. I shoot a glance toward the front room. The window lies in jagged pieces on the floor. Arn’s got the kitchen table flipped over and hunches behind it with a rifle to his chest. My mama crouches at his feet, slipping rounds into another rifle with trembling fingers. Auntie sits with her back to the table, the revolver clutched to her breast.

I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I just run. I’ll drop Ethan off and come back for them. It don’t matter what Arn said. They need me.

I hit the porch, barely feeling the boards under my feet. When I jump into the yard, headlights blaze from our driveway. Half-dozen men are clustered behind three trucks. They’re armed. They’re going to kill us all.

I skid to a stop at the storm cellar. Ethan’s crying when I set him down to pull open the doors.

“Riley,” he sobs. “What’s happening? Where’s Mama?” Snot runs in strings from his nose.

There’s no time to comfort him. I point to the hole. “Get in.”

He shakes his head, tears flinging off in every direction. “Not without you.”

“Get in!” I yell.

He cries harder, shaking his head. His eyes are wide.

Gun shots crackle behind me. My panic chokes out all thought. I gotta get back. I pick Ethan up and carry him down the ladder. He cries and struggles, but somehow I get him down without dropping him. I dump him on the bench and run back to the ladder. His sobs fill the dark hole. I’ll calm him down when this is over. I gotta get back.

I scramble up the ladder. Two rungs from the top, a shadow blots out the light. I peer up. With the headlights streaming behind him, it’s hard to make out a face. For a moment I think it’s Arn. Then the shadow turns his head and I recognize the square chin and short, dark hair.

Clay?

I stop climbing for a moment, confused. He’s one of the men sent to kill my family?

I scan his face, looking for answers. He opens his mouth to speak, but shots rattle in the distance. He steps back and he’s gone. As I’m reaching for the next rung, I hear a loud squawk. Too late.

The heavy wooden door falls over the entrance, plunging us into darkness. Then I hear him slide the board through the handles.

He’s locked us in.

Chapter Six

I slam into the cellar doors over and over. My shoulder blazes with pain, and splinters pierce my skin, but I pay no heed. Barking sobs like a tortured dog’s escape my throat.