The door didn't break so much as explode inward.
The cold outside air slammed into the living room with a spray of snow and splinters. Three men surged through the opening like they owned it, their rifles raised, and the black barrels trained on the five occupants of the cabin like it was just another day.
Their boots hammered the hardwood in a rhythm that was too practiced to be panic. They were prepared, they knew where to go, and they obviously believed that they held the upper hand in this situation.
It was just too bad that they didn't know whose door they were knocking on.
"Where's the food?" the lead man barked, his voice muffled under the shadow of a pulled-up hood and black balaclava. "All of it."
The room went still in the way prey does when the predator steps into the clearing.
Sera didn't move.
