Page 15 of Oliver (The Golden Team #7)

Emery

I felt it before I heard it.

That ripple of wrongness that crept down your spine when something was just… off.

I was alone in the house—Oliver had left to meet the team. Tag was outside patrolling the perimeter. Everything was supposed to be safe.

But my instincts—sharpened from years in high-stress competition—were screaming at me now.

I stood in the kitchen, water bottle halfway to my lips, frozen in place.

Then came the sound.

A soft creak. Floorboards settling.

Or…

Footsteps?

I put the bottle down slowly and grabbed the knife from the counter.

Not exactly Olympic regulation, but I’d learned a few things from my Dad.

I moved through the hallway quietly, bare feet silent on the hardwood. My heart thudded against my ribs—quick, tight, controlled.

I passed the closed guest room, the half-lit hallway that led to the laundry room.

Nothing.

I was just about to breathe again when something flickered at the edge of my vision.

The backyard security light.

It was off five minutes ago.

Now it was on.

Movement.

I darted into Oliver’s room and crouched below the window. Peered through the blinds.

A shadow.

Tall. Broad. Circling the far fence.

Tag should’ve been on patrol. I didn’t see him.

My fingers shook as I reached for my phone and typed a message to Oliver.

Someone’s outside. Tag’s not answering. I’m locking down.

He read it instantly.

Three dots. Then a response:

Do not engage. I’m two minutes out. Lock every door. Get to the panic room. NOW.

My pulse spiked.

I moved fast. Locked the back door. Deadbolted the front. Closed every blind. Grabbed the emergency go-bag Oliver had shown me, just in case and slid it over my shoulder.

Then I sprinted down the hallway to the hidden panel behind the bookshelf.

The panic room was small—reinforced steel walls, bulletproof glass screen, silent air filtration. It smelled like metal and adrenaline.

I slammed the door and locked it behind me, my back against the wall, knife still gripped in my hand.

Seconds passed.

Then I heard it.

The back door was clicking open.

Someone was inside.

I covered my mouth to keep from gasping.

He was here.

Viktor—or one of his men.

And I was alone.

But I wasn’t afraid.

Not anymore.

I’d survived once.

And I would do it again.

Because I wasn’t the scared girl they thought they’d broken.

I was Emery Blake.

And I was done running.

Oliver would be here soon.