He climbed the stairs slowly. Each step creaked faintly. He found his mind inventing scenarios. Perhaps the power partially went out. Perhaps the staff stepped away because of an emergency. He did not want to consider alternative explanations. He reached the second floor landing and turned toward the nursery.
Halfway down the corridor, he registered movement from below. A shadow shifted near the living room. It did not look like the usual flicker of passing headlights outside. It moved too deliberately.
Preston stopped moving. His chest tightened with instinct before thought could form. He inhaled, exhaled, and retraced his steps down the hallway.
He descended the staircase with careful quiet. On the last step, he looked toward the living room and felt his world tilt into fear.
Annalise Corbyn sat on the hardwood floor, her back against the edge of the couch. Her arms wrapped tightly around Mikaelyn and Masonel, both children pressed into her as if desperately seeking shelter. Neither child was asleep. Instead, silent tears streaked down their cheeks. Their eyes were red and wide with a kind of fear Preston had never seen in them.