“We’re leaving,” I said, steady, with the authority of a man deciding to break every rule he’d ever lived by.

The lead man shook his head, almost pitying, and gestured at the sealed doors. “The terminal is locked down, Mr. Bellmont. There’s nowhere to go.” His hand reached for Noah’s backpack strap.

I didn’t answer with words.

I swung my heavy leather suitcase up in a violent arc and drove it into the scarred man’s chest, throwing him back into a row of metal chairs. The clatter was deafening, and it pulled the attention of the distant airport guards.

“Run!” I grabbed Maren’s arm and hauled her and the boys toward the service door behind the gate desk — Authorized Personnel Only.

The lead man lunged, fingers brushing my jacket, and I threw my weight against the heavy access door and pinned his arm between the frame and the edge.