Georgie Ellis had never punched through a window before.
She hoped she wouldn’t regret starting now.

‘Stand back,’ she hissed—and before anyone could argue, she swung the nearest chair at the glass.

It shattered with a violent, crystalline shriek.
Cold air punched into the room, carrying with it the scent of scorched heather and something else—something metallic. Bitter. Old.

‘Go!’ Don barked. ‘One at a time—careful of the frame—’

‘Ladies first,’ Riggs muttered, boosting Georgie up and through.

Her boots skidded on the moss-slick gravel outside. She caught herself on the sill, hauled her body clear, and dropped to the ground, rolling once to soften the impact.

She sprang up immediately, scanning the...

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