Michael's jaw tightened as he secured a small bandage over my cut. "No message needed. The brickisthe message."
Nobody had wrapped paper around it. They hadn't attached a threatening note with string or rubber bands like in the movies. It was only a brick—ordinary, unremarkable, and terrifying in its simplicity.
"It wasn't random." Michael's voice was low and controlled. "They know where I live and knew we were here."
I looked at the shattered glass scattered across the floor, glittering in the fading light like evil diamonds. Tiny shards had traveled as far as the kitchen doorway.
Internally, I cursed my trembling voice. "What do we do?"
After finishing bandaging my hand, Michael stood, moving to the broken window. He pulled the blinds closed and began picking up the larger shards of glass. "We adapt."
The music had stopped, leaving oppressive silence in its wake. I watched as a stray drop of my blood slid down my wrist, disappearing beneath the cuff of my sleeve.
Outside, the normal sounds of the city continued uninterrupted—distant traffic, the metallic clang of construction, and a dog barking. The world hadn't stopped turning.
"They're watching us right now, aren't they?" I asked the question even though I dreaded the answer.
Michael didn't answer immediately. He gathered the glass into a pile. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with barely contained rage.
"Probably. And if they're not, they will be soon. We need to move. This place isn't secure anymore."
Michael disappeared into the bedroom, returning moments later with a roll of duct tape and what looked like a folded tarp.
"Help me cover the window." He was already positioning the plastic sheet over the jagged opening. I held the edges while he secured it with rapid, precisely torn pieces of tape. The makeshift repair rustled with each gust of wind, but it blocked the worst of the draft.
"Grab your things again—anything you can't leave behind." Michael crossed the room to a cabinet I hadn't paid much attention to before. He entered a combination on a small digital lock. Inside was a small arsenal—another handgun, boxes of ammunition, and several items I couldn't identify.
"Should I be concerned that you have an armory in your living room?"
Michael didn't look up as he selected items and transferred them to his go-bag. "Former military, remember? This is standard preparedness."
"For most people, preparedness means extra canned food and flashlight batteries."
"I'm not most people." He zipped the bag closed. "Neither are the ones hunting us."
Michael crossed to the kitchen, retrieving his phone from the counter. His entire demeanor had shifted from the man who'd almost danced with me minutes earlier. Now he was all soldier, analytical and focused.
"I need backup." He scrolled through his contacts, thumb hovering for a moment before he pressed call. The phone barely rang once before a voice answered on the other end—too faint for me to make out the words, but I recognized the voice. Marcus.
Michael's voice was low and steady. "It's me. Need your eyes. Situation at home base." He paused, listening. "Yes. Brick through window. Classic warning shot." Another pause. "No heat visible, but they're out there."
I couldn't hear Marcus's responses, but I watched as Michael's shoulders relaxed after hearing whatever his brother said.
"Forty minutes works. Back entrance, no lights." Michael glanced at me. "Yes, he's with me."
Michael ended the call and immediately dialed again. This time, his voice shifted slightly when the other party answered—still urgent, but with a different cadence.
"Miles. Need a favor, no questions." He spoke rapidly, outlining what had happened without embellishment. "No, don't call it in. This stays off the books."
I moved to the kitchen, wanting to be closer and understand what was happening. Michael's face was tight with concentration as he listened to his brother's response.
Miles must have made a joke despite the circumstances because Michael's mouth twitched briefly.Are you sure you're not just overreacting? You always were paranoid, I imagined Miles saying, trying to lighten the mood as I had earlier.
"It wasn't an isolated act." Michael's voice dropped lower. "They know exactly who and where we are."
Whatever Miles said next changed the atmosphere completely. Michael's spine straightened, and his face hardened into something I barely recognized.
"Thanks. Basement access, forty minutes. Come armed." He disconnected the call and turned to me. "My brothers are coming. We're moving to a more secure location."
