I scrambled back, hands scraping the floorboards, grabbing for anything — and closed my fist around a heavy stone bookend.

I braced myself to fight for my life in the dark.

Ryan never made it through the window.

The night exploded.

Not lightning — a blinding artificial white that erupted out of the tree line all around the cabin. Three high-intensity spotlights punched through the rain and converged on my front porch, turning the storm into washed-out daylight.

Ryan froze with his leg over the sill, crowbar still in his fist, throwing an arm up against the glare.