Gasps rippled through the church. Chairs scraped softly as people backed away, hands lifting instinctively. “Give me the box,” the man said, voice sharp now. “No one gets hurt.” Emma didn’t move. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Lucy slipping through the crowd, circling wide, careful not to draw attention.
The man noticed. “Back up,” he snapped, lifting the knife just enough to make his point. “All of you. Now.” Emma didn’t move. “You said you were here to collect,” she said, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “Collect what?”