Intense

Slowly, Emory rocked back up to his feet, drawing up to his full height. I stared at him, afraid but also impressed, as he looked toward me.

“I asked you to stay upstairs,” he said.

“Sorry,” I answered dumbly, barely able to think.

He looked at my parents. “Go upstairs with Tara now,” he said. “I’ll take care of this.” They hesitated, staring at him. “Go,” he said more gently. “It’s over.”

Relief washed over me. It was over. Just like that, Emory had taken out three men, two with just a knife. There had been barely any noise, except for the gunshots.

My parents moved out from under the table and quickly came upstairs. Dad grabbed me and pulled me along. The last thing I saw before we went back into the nursery was Emory looking down at the bodies, his face twisted into a mask of rage.

The three of us sat in a stunned silence in the nursery. I held Mason close against my chest. There were no noises from downstairs except for the front door opening and closing once.

Mom and Dad weren’t speaking, and I couldn’t break the heavy tension. I simply held Mason close against me, fear rolling through my skin. I couldn’t begin to come to grips with what I had seen.

I’d known what Emory had been saying was true. I’d known I was in danger. But it didn’t really seem real until I saw a bearded man with a gun standing in my kitchen. Watching Emory take the men down with seeming ease only made it all that much more intense.

He wasn’t making any of it up. I’d never really doubted it, but now there was no more room for questions.

I was in serious danger, and so was my family.

After maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, I heard the sound of feet softly moving down the hall. I felt a spike of fear as the door slowly opened.

Emory looked in at us. His face had softened a lot since I’d last seen him.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I know what you just witnessed was horrible, but the men are gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Dad said first. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad I was here.”

I stood up. “What’s going to happen now?” I asked.

“Are we calling the police?” Mom added.

“No,” he said. “We are disposing of the bodies. I called my commanding officer already, and he’s sending a more thorough cleanup team.”

“What does that mean?” Dad asked.

“Men will be here soon to scrub your house of blood.”

We were silent for a second as that sank in.

“I know this is a lot to handle,” he said, “but there’s one last thing. Tara, we have to leave town.”

“What?”

“There’s a safe house in Indianapolis. It used to be run by the CIA. My CO tells me that we can use it.”

“I can’t leave my parents,” I said.

“They’re safe here. The Network doesn’t want or care about them. Plus, Cooper and a few others will stay here to watch over them.”

“No, Emory,” I said firmly. “They come or I stay.”

“Honey,” Dad said gently, putting his hand on my arm. “Honey, listen to me. You have to do what he says.”

“Emory knows what he’s doing,” Mom said.

“But I can’t just leave you here.”

“You can and you will,” Dad said. “You’re the one in danger. When the men first came inside, the only thing they wanted to know was where you were.”

“It’s true,” Mom said. “He said they wouldn’t hurt us if they could have you.”

“We didn’t tell them,” Dad added.

“You two did amazing,” Emory said. “But, Tara, we need to leave.”

“When?”

“Right now.”

I stood there, unmoving, staring at my parents.

How could I just turn away and run? After what had happened? I felt responsible for this. I had brought these terrorists into their house. It was my fault for insisting that Emory bring me back to the house to check up on them.

But if they were right, I would be doing more harm than good by staying. If we left, the terrorists would follow us.

“Okay,” I said softly. “Only because I think it would be worse if I stayed.”

“Thank you,” Dad said.

“Come on. We need to get moving.” Emory turned to leave.

“Wait. We need to get Mason’s things.”

Mom and Dad went into motion. They quickly packed what I’d need while Emory watched, his eyes intense. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he radiated a calmness that made me feel more secure.

He knew what he was doing. Even if this situation seemed absolutely insane, Emory was in control. He’d taken those men out when they broke into the house. He was going to keep us safe. I just had to trust him.