With my eyes fixed on the security monitor, I nervously paced the kitchen floor. The screen flashed from one zone to the next, each providing an alternate view—and peace of mind—that the yard was free of any intruders. Then, the screen went dark.

I scrambled to the counter and switched to the next zone.

Dark.

I frantically flipped through each zone, only to find them dark. My heart sank. I expected Vincent may have turned off the lights, but my level of comfort plummeted, nevertheless. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was exactly what an intruder might want.

A completely dark environment to operate in.

Clutching the pistol as if it were my only salvation, I flipped the screen from zone to zone, hoping to catch a glimpse of something—anything—that would provide me with some reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

Each of the available screens was pitch-black.

My heart sank. A moment later, while I waited anxiously to find out what was going on, my phone pinged. Hoping to see a text from Vincent, I rushed to the counter and snatched it up.

A text message from my neighbor, Jack, was illuminated on the screen. I unlocked the phone and read the message.

There were men ransacking your home. I followed them here. I’m outside now

Wondering what the fuck was going on, I quickly typed my response and pressed send.

Outside where?

His reply was immediate.

Right off Ebenezer Church Road. I’m at the back door. Let me in. They’re coming.

Men ransacking my home? The only thing that I could think anyone might be trying to find would be the information I took from New Dawn.

The original SD card wasn’t at my home, but if men were coming there in hope of finding it, it meant someone said something. There were only two someone’s that knew anything.

Vince and Jack.

My mind raced.

Vincent encouraged me to gather the information. After I obtained it, I copied it to a flash drive. I gave the flash drive to Jack. Vincent kept the original SD card.

Vincent wouldn’t tell men to ransack my home in search of a card that he had possession of.

Jack was a freelance beer-drinking architect that knew no one other than Jordan.

I trusted Vincent. I doubted my instinct was wrong in that regard. Jack was nosey, but he was harmless, I was sure of it.

I typed another message.

You’re outside right now?

I’m at the back door, he replied. Hurry, they’re out here, somewhere…

I went to the back door, reached for the handle, and paused. The door was solid wood and fitted with a peephole similar to most front doors. I pressed my eye against it.

Blackness stared back at me.

With reluctance, I opened the door with my left hand while pointing the pistol through the opening. The alarm chirped once, giving indication a door had been opened.

Jack, wide-eyed and shaking like a startled teenager, glanced at my pistol and then at me. His hands shot into the air. “Jesus, Val. Don’t shoot me.”

I lowered the gun.

He squeezed his massive body through the narrow opening and pushed the door closed. He mussed his hair with frantic fingertips and then offered a perplexed look.

“This has got to be about that box you gave me, huh?” he asked excitedly.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” I responded. “All I know is someone’s outside.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” He peered over my shoulder, toward the kitchen. “You didn’t take something else from them, did you?”

A tingle ran the length of my spine. Something was wrong. Jack’s arrival was all too convenient. His curiosity was out of place.

We were standing in the hallway, half the distance between the kitchen and the back door. I widened my stance and slid my finger inside the pistol’s trigger guard. As my fingertip came in contact with the knurled face of the trigger, I offered Jack a false grin.

“I’m so glad you found me,” I said. “How’d you know where to go?”

“I followed them here.”

With the pistol hanging low at my side, I tilted the barrel toward his chest and hoped he didn’t notice. “What are they driving?”

“There’s three of them,” he replied, “they’re all together, in a truck.”

There were three marines left in New Dawn’s program. They all drove trucks. Either Jack was a fabulous at guessing or he was telling the truth. I mentally relaxed.

“You’ve got a copy of whatever’s in there, right?” he asked.

I turned toward the kitchen. “In where?”

“In the box,” he said. “You know that’s what they’re after.”

I paused. Something was wrong. His interest should have been our safety. Instead, he was concerned with who might have copies of the flash drive. My heart thrashed against my ribs so violently I could feel it in my temples.

Jack was the intruder.

I tightened my finger against the trigger, glanced toward the kitchen, and planned my next few steps. As soon as I was in the open, I would hold him at gunpoint and demand some answers.

“Vincent’s got it hidden somewhere,” I replied. “I think it’s at his apartment in Garrisonville.”

I took my last step, pivoting on the ball of my right foot. Before he came into view, my body was slammed against the island so violently I was nearly knocked unconscious. The breath shot from my lungs on impact.

The heel of his palm struck my forearm with such force that pain shot the length of my arm and up my neck, momentarily paralyzing me.

I heard the pistol skate across the tile floor.

His fist struck my face. My vision blurred. Two successive punches to my mid-section made sure I didn’t recover anytime soon.

I heaved to suck a breath.

Disoriented, I blindly raised my hands in hope of defending myself. My back slammed against the granite countertop.

“I’ll break your fucking arms, bitch,” he growled. “Lower your hands.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He spun me halfway around, pressed my chest to the island, and zip-tied my wrists together. My mind raced to piece together what had happened.

Jack was either with the DNI, or he was somehow attached to New Dawn. The possibility existed, I suppose, that he was with an agency that served under the DNI’s umbrella and hoped to use the information in the flash drive as leverage against the DNI. The Central Intelligence Agency. The Defense Intelligence Agency. ATF. DEA. FBI.

I felt like an idiot for trusting him.

He lifted me to my feet. His eyes were narrow and cold. “You’re going to give me anything you have on New Dawn, the DNI, and the US Marine’s involvement in killing civilians. You need to think about that while I drag your skinny little ass out of here. If you try to do anything other than comply with my demands, I’ll put a bullet in the back of your skull. Are we clear?”

I nodded.

He gripped my face in his massive hand and squeezed it firmly. “Are. We. Clear?”

“Yes,” I said under my breath.

He released his grip and took a step back.

I glanced at the pistol, which was now twenty feet from where I stood. With my hands secured behind my back, I had no choice but to comply with his demands. My only hope was that Vincent would arrive before Jack took me from the home.

The alarm chirped.

My heart faltered.

“Vincent!” I shouted. “Someone’s in—”

The flash of his hand swinging toward my face was so quick I didn’t have time to react. Blinding pain surged through my jaw.

A flash of light. Then, darkness.

I opened my eyes to blurred vision. The smell of cordite hung heavily in the air, nearly choking me from breathing. I blinked, rolled to my side, and gazed the length of the hallway.

Two bodies were positioned between me and the back door. The amount of blood pooled on the floor gave hint that I’d been unconscious for some time. Jack loomed over the body closest to the door. It appeared he was searching for something.

I glanced the other direction. My phone was on the floor, mere feet away. With my eyes fixed on Jack, I inched my way to where it was. I rolled onto my back and searched blindly until I found it. Then, I pushed it deep into the back side of my jeans.

Just as I let out a sigh of relief, Jack grabbed a fistful of my hair and lifted me to my feet. “Get up!”

I clenched my teeth.

You son-of-a-bitch.

“Make one sound,” he warned, “and you’ll be just as dead as these two.”

I glanced at the two bodies as we hurried past. The first was undoubtedly Taggert. The second, I believed to be Wilson, but wasn’t sure. When we reached the back door, Jack pulled something from his jacket pocket and slipped it over my head.

Enveloped by darkness, I was dragged through the door and into the cool night air. My only hope was that Vincent would find me before Jack found my phone.

We walked for what seemed like forever, and then paused. A car door opened. He yanked me from my feet and tossed me into what I expected was the trunk.

“If you make one fucking sound,” he warned. “I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

The trunk lid slammed closed.

I rolled to my side. After an awkwardly painful process of fishing the phone out of my jeans, I wedged it beneath the trunk’s insulated carpet. Then, for the first time since Vincent disappeared down the hallway, I exhaled.

I hope you’re as good as they say you are, Vincent Briggs.