"They're already here."
The words had barely left Jacob's lips when the first wail of a siren cut through the heavy air of the club. It grew louder with every beat, a screaming, rhythmic pulse that ended in the sharp shriek of tires on the pavement right outside the front doors.
Jacob's men moved as one, abandoning the packing boxes to gather at his side. They stood in a tense semi-circle, their eyes darting between the entrance and Jacob, waiting for the order that would decide if they lived through the hour.
Jacob glanced at the mountain of packed boxes before turning a venomous scowl toward Lana.
"Ready the weapons," he barked at his men, his voice cracking with desperation. "We kill whoever steps through those doors and we flee this city. Now!"
