Ellen moved swiftly, her body a blur of focused determination as she pulled the curtains slightly apart. Scarlett could see the shadows of men outside, their movements precise, their weapons glinting in the faint moonlight.
"They're armed," Ellen said under her breath, letting the curtain fall back into place. Her face betrayed no fear, only grim resolve.
Henry was already on his feet, locking the back door and checking the latches on the windows. "How much time do we have?" he asked.
"Not enough," Ellen replied, her voice steady as she crossed the room to the bookshelf. She ran her fingers along its edges, stopping abruptly at a hidden seam. With a quick push, the shelf groaned, then swung outward to reveal a narrow doorway.
"A panic room?" Scarlett asked, her eyebrows shooting up.
"Get in," Ellen ordered, not answering the question.