PREVIEW

... the living room. The air was thick with the smell of dust from moved furniture and the faint, metallic scent of blood from the carpet.

"Until it’s quiet," Quinn answered, his eyes fixed on the front door’s peephole. He had been standing there for nearly an hour, a silent sentinel, his body rigid with tension.

"It’s not getting quiet," Sarah said from the hallway entrance. Her voice was flat, devoid of the hope she had tried to maintain earlier. "It’s getting worse."

She w ...

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