EMBER’S POV
Maurice is already on his feet and heading down the hallway toward the storage room, pulling the key from his pocket as he goes.
I hear the padlock rattle, hear him wrenching the door open, hear Gale’s panicked voice — “What the f**k is happening? What’s going on out there?” — and Maurice telling him to shut up and hold still while he works on the chains.
I press myself against the wall beside the front door, heart slamming, counting. Fifteen. That’s what Maurice said. Fifteen seconds before the next volley.
Twelve. Eleven. Ten.
From the back of the house, the screen door creaks. Queenie is making her move.
The car is only twenty feet from the steps.
The plan is simple: Reach the glovebox. Get the gun. Take the shot. We can survive this.
Nine. Eight.
Then, the sound.
