Diana dropped to a squat, pressing two fingers to the small wrist. The family held its breath.
Seconds later, she released the arm. It flopped onto the snow with a dull thud.
"No pulse." Her voice was clinical. "He's gone."
Screams erupted from the children. Adults pulled their own kids close, terror etched on their faces.
But Derek's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
"Ryan. Guard the main gate."
He didn't shout, but the command was absolute. "Don't let the neighbors hear a thing. It's New Year's—I won't have us become a laughingstock."
Ryan Lawson froze for a split second, then obeyed. He marched to the courtyard gate and slammed the heavy bolt home, sealing us in.
Derek turned his cold gaze on the terrified children.
"Inside. All of you. Game room upstairs." His eyes bore into them. "You saw nothing today. You were just playing in the snow. Understood?"
Not a question. An order.
The children exchanged nervous glances. A few younger ones wailed, but the older cousins grabbed them and dragged them toward the stairs, vanishing into the house.
My shock began to fracture. Trembling, I reached for the mascot's oversized headpiece. I had to know who was inside.