Chapter 7 - Smoke and Lead in the Snow

Before Dominic could slam the metal fuse box door shut, a dull, concussive thud vibrated through the foundation of the cabin. It wasn't thunder. It was the heavy, rhythmic pounding of a battering ram against the reinforced oak back door in the mudroom.
"They're through the outer fence," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he shoved the lighter into his coat pocket and gripped his pistol with both hands. He turned to me, his dark eyes searching my face in the gloom. "Emily, get to the girls. Take the floor hatch under the guest bed. It leads down into the old drainage tunnel that exits by the boathouse."
"I'm not leaving you to hold the door alone," I said, my fingers closing around the heavy iron fire poker leaning against the stone hearth.
"That's an order, Emily!" Dominic barked, his voice cracking with a fierce, desperate intensity that finally made me move.
I sprinted down the hallway just as the mudroom door splintered inward with a deafening crash. Shouts rang out in the stairwell—sharp, professional commands barked in military cadence. I bolted up the stairs two at a time, bursting into the guest bedroom where Mrs. Gable was already ushering the wide-eyed twins toward the center of the room. Lily and Grace were clutching their grey and tan blankets around their shoulders, trembling silently.
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"Come on, girls, we're playing a game," I said, pitching my voice to sound steady while my hands shook violently. I hauled back the heavy braided rug and threw open the wooden floor hatch, revealing a steep, concrete-lined drop into darkness. "Mrs. Gable, you go first and catch Lily."
From downstairs, the sharp, deafening crack of gunfire shattered the quiet. The smell of cordite and burnt powder drifted up through the floorboards. Glass shattered in the living room, followed by a heavy crash and Miller shouting a warning over the din. I bundled Grace into my arms, her small heart hammering against my chest like a trapped bird, and dropped down into the cold concrete shaft just as heavy boots pounded onto the upper landing.