THE LIGHT THAT TAUGHT HER TO WEEP

The first shot didn't sound like thunder; it sounded like the crack of a dry branch snapping under immense pressure. The lock on the front door blew inward with a shower of splintered oak, the brass latch tumbling across the polished wood floor.

Elena gasped, ducking low as she bolted through the kitchen door toward the back pantry. David lunged forward, grabbing the heavy dining room table by its mahogany edge and heaving it violently onto its side, sending the frosted birthday cake, the paper plates, and the framed photo crashing to the floor. The cake smeared across the floorboards in a white, ruined streak.

""Move back!"" Marcus barked, dropping behind the overturned table beside David.

Two men in dark windbreakers stepped through the shattered doorway. The first man held a short-barreled shotgun, his face obscured by a damp baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. The second held a heavy flashlight, sweeping its beam across the debris until it caught Marcus’s leather vest.

""Marcus,"" the man with the flashlight said calmly, not raising his weapon yet. ""Mr. Galloway figured you’d get sentimental. Family reunion, is it?""

""Get out of the house, Cole,"" Marcus said, his gun resting steady over the edge of the tabletop. ""The ledger isn't here. David buried it south of the border three years ago.""

Cole chuckled, a low, wet sound that echoed in the dark corridor. ""Funny. Because we tracked the money wire David sent to the bakery this morning from an account linked directly to Galloway’s offshore routing numbers. He didn't bury anything. He’s been feeding his baby girl on our boss's money.""

David felt a cold sickness rise from his stomach into his throat. He turned his head slightly toward Marcus, whose eyes were wide with sudden, vicious fury.

""You stole from the vault?"" Marcus whispered to David. ""You told me you only took your share.""