Then Marcus’s voice, calm and deadly. “Come out.” Sarah stood first, hands visible. Eleanor forced herself upright beside her. The masked man stepped forward. The third man hung back near the door, watching the woods like he was already thinking about escape routes.
Marcus’s eyes flicked over them—irritation first, then something colder. “Pack up,” he said to the other two, not raising his voice. “Get the truck. Load as many as you can.” Eleanor’s blood went ice. “No—” Marcus didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to. The order was already moving.