The chilling secret hidden in the maid’s tea.

The heavy steel door of the panic room hissed shut, sealing Clara in absolute silence. The sudden quiet was jarring, a stark contrast to the chaotic roar of gunfire and explosions tearing the mansion apart outside. The room was small but intensely fortified, lined with reinforced steel, survival supplies, and a bank of security monitors that currently displayed static.

Clara paced the length of the room, her hands resting protectively on her bump. She checked her phone, but there was no signal within the thick walls. Every passing second felt like an hour. She imagined Ronan bleeding out on the marble floors. She imagined Toby crying in the dark beneath the kitchen, terrified and alone.

"I can't just wait here," Clara whispered to herself.

She walked over to a heavy metal lockbox bolted to the desk. It was unlocked. Inside rested a sleek, silver 9mm handgun and two spare magazines. Clara had never fired a gun in her life, but the image of Veronica's cruel smile flashed in her mind. Veronica wanted her dead. Veronica wanted to kill her unborn child.

Clara picked up the gun. It was heavier than she expected, the cold metal grounding her frantic thoughts. With trembling hands, she pulled the slide back. It locked with a sharp, satisfying click.

She approached the steel door and pressed the internal release button. The heavy locks disengaged with a mechanical thud, and the door swung open.

The roar of the battle instantly flooded her ears. The mansion was filled with the acrid stench of cordite, smoke, and blood. Clara slipped out of the master office and into the ruined hallway. The velvet carpets were torn, the walls riddled with bullet holes.

She needed to get to the kitchen. She needed to get to Toby.

She crept down the secondary servants' staircase, a narrow, winding set of stairs she knew better than anyone. The sounds of heavy fighting were concentrated at the front of the house, meaning the back corridors were mostly abandoned.

As she reached the bottom landing, a shadow detached itself from the wall.

"Well, look who decided to come out of hiding," a sickly sweet voice echoed in the dim corridor.

Clara froze, raising the silver handgun with shaking arms. Standing ten feet away, flanked by two heavily armed Shaw mercenaries, was Veronica. She had traded her emerald gown for sleek black tactical clothing, but the diamond earrings still caught the dim lighting. She held a suppressed pistol casually at her side.

"Veronica," Clara breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"I was just on my way to dig that little bastard Toby out of the safe room, but finding you here? This is a gift," Veronica smiled cruelly.

"Don't you go near him," Clara warned, her voice trembling but her grip on the gun tightening. "I'll shoot you."