the only two people in the entire museum who weren't afraid of the scary men with guns were Henri's parents. They wore eerily calm expressions on their faces. Henri couldn't fathom how they managed to keep their composure.

"What is going on?" Thea half-whispered. "Who are these people?"

Aminata turned toward her husband. "Arkangel?"

Simon nodded solemnly. "We can't let them take the map."

The map. Henri turned his head toward the man who'd shot the display case. He'd just stepped over the velvet rope sectioning it off from the rest of the room. His fellow assailants pointed their weapons at the cowering museum patrons as a form of crowd control. Everyone kept their heads and eyes down. No one dared to even steal a glance their way.

Well, except for Simon Beck.

He stomped toward the man near the display case with the map. Aminata called out to him, but her cries fell on deaf ears. Henri's heart sank as he watched his father approach the gunman.

"Get away from the map!" Simon commanded. His voice held more confidence and authority than it should've. A simple press of a trigger could've spelled the end for him.

He was met with bone-chilling silence. All the other gunmen lifted their heads to peer at him. Even through their visors, Henri could see them shooting incredulous looks at his father. He didn't blame them.

"Dad, what are you doing!" Thea shouted.

He held a finger up for her to be quiet. Pushing his wire-rimmed glasses further up his nose, he scowled at the intruder standing feet away from the shattered display case.

The masked man didn't respond. Instead, they reached out and plucked the map free from the metal stand holding it up.

"I said get away from the map," Simon bellowed. "Listen, I don't know who you are or who exactly put you up to this but—"

The map thief pointed his rifle at him with his finger curled around the trigger. Simon stopped dead in his tracks. While the expression on his face suggested he wasn't fazed, the bead of sweat trickling down his temple said otherwise. Henri's breath caught in his throat. His chest felt heavy as if someone had dropped a dumbbell onto his sternum. He glanced at his mother and sister. They watched the scene unfolding before them with widened eyes.

"You give me order, eh?" The gunman snorted. "Rifle pointed in your face, and you give me order?" He advanced. Simon didn't move an inch.

Henri's eyes bounced between the two of them like a tennis ball being served over a net. Except this wasn't a game. These party crashers didn't seem like the rational type. One wrong word or move could spell their demise.

He glanced at his father, who gave no indication of backing down. "Dad, what're you doing? Just let them take it. It's not worth your life."

"You're right. It's not worth my life. It's worth a lot more than that." He turned his attention back to the thief. "That's why they were sent here to steal it."

"Brave man," the gunman said. Holding his rifle with one hand, he used the other to roll up the map. He then tucked it into the pocket of his black tactical pants, which had way too many pockets.

Henri cringed as he watched him manhandle the aged piece of parchment. The thing was hundreds of years old, at least. If you even blew on it too hard the entire thing could've been ruined. He didn't exactly take the thief as someone who prided themselves on their regard for ancient artifacts.

"Artifact acquired," the map thief grumbled, likely into the headset built into their bulky helmet. "Extraction in progress." He turned to his accomplices. "On me!" He cast Henri, Simon, and the rest of the Becks one last look before heading for the exit of the showroom.

Simon stepped toward the man.

"Simon, don't," his wife warned.

"I can't let them take it," he urged. "I can't."

Aminata opened her mouth to argue, but Simon was already halfway across the room before she could get another word out.

His charge was short-lived, as the man who stole the map spun around in time to intercept him. With both hands gripping his rifle, he swung it downward, catching Simon in the face with the butt of the gun. A crack echoed throughout the museum showroom as Henri's father dropped to his knees. He pressed his hands to his bleeding nose, his features drawn tightly together in a mix of shock and pain.

"You're lucky I don't shoot you," the thief hissed.

Aminata rushed across the linoleum like a cheetah sprinting through a jungle. Thea screamed for her to stop. Henri tried to stop her, but his body still wasn't listening to him. Fear had sunk its teeth deep into him. A parasite paralyzing his muscles and making him little more than a spectator to what was happening. It was a parasite; a leech stealing the little courage he had.

His mother didn't seem to have the same problem.

She charged at the man who assaulted her husband without a second thought. She'd never make it to him, though, as one of his goons intercepted her. They wrapped their arms around her, squeezing tight like a boa constrictor seizing its prey. She kicked and thrashed and clawed, but they wouldn't let her go.

"Let her go!" Thea begged. She was seconds away from either rushing the gunmen or exploding into a ball of tears. Likely both.

Simon remained on the ground, desperately trying to stop the red river from flowing from his nostrils. Behind his glasses, Henri could see his brown eyes blazing like burning suns. "Even with the map you'll never find the library."

Henri blinked, stunned into a daze. Find what library? What was his father talking about?

Simon flashed a smug grin at the thief. The blood from his nose trickled past his lips and eventually found its way inside his mouth. It stained his teeth crimson like painted stones. He spat red near the feet of the thief's combat boots.

The gunman lifted their chin slightly. "You know what, Beck? You're right." Leaning close to Simon's face, he pressed the muzzle of his rifle under the man's pointed chin. "The map won't lead us to the library." Stepping away, he lifted his head to look at one of his fellow intruders. "Change of plans."

"Sir?" one of them said.

"Bring them both."

Henri blanched.

The gunmen glanced in direction of the Beck siblings. "Grab them too."

"Henri, Thea, run now!" their mother shouted from the arms of the gunmen holding her captive.

Henri locked eyes with his father for a split second. The man didn't say a word, but his message was clearer than the water in the Maldives.

He suddenly felt like a dead car battery that'd just received power from a pair of jumper cables. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, momentarily overpowering the fear threatening to retake him. Turning to Thea, he snatched up her hand.

"We gotta go."

"But Mom and Dad—"

"Thea, we gotta go!"

His instincts snatched hold of his movements. He bolted in the opposite direction, tugging Thea along behind him as they ran through the cowering crowd of people in the showroom. Everyone remained on the floor, making it easy to spot the two of them making a break for the emergency exit.

They wouldn't remain down for long, though.

One of the gunmen let off a shot that sent the entire room into a frenzy. Over the screaming and footsteps thundering toward the other exit, Henri heard the leader of the assailants bellow something in his native tongue. While Henri didn't speak Serbian, he knew whatever the man said couldn't have been good.

Everyone within the showroom was either running for cover or booking it to the exit. The gunmen had lost control of the crowd and were struggling to push through the raging current of panicked people. Henri and Thea soldiered forward, desperately trying their best to reach the set of emergency doors beneath the neon EXIT sign across the room.

Henri made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. The gunmen were closing in on them. The door was just a few feet ahead, though. Just a few more steps and they'd be outside.

What happened after that, Henri didn't have the slightest clue. But they'd cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, their number one priority was getting out of the museum and away from whoever the hell these people were.

"Don't let them escape!" someone shouted over the chaos.

Gritting his teeth, he willed his legs to move faster. Thea's wheezing filled his ears as she labored to match his speed.

A few breathless moments later, the pair burst through the emergency doors and into the cold, pouring rain. The museum's alarm went off behind them, a piercing symphony slicing through the hazy, wet night like a reaper's scythe.

Together, Henri and Thea ran for their lives.

#

Henri's suit didn't stand a chance against the rain. Water infiltrated his garments, causing them to stick to his skin. He didn't have time to moan about it, though, as the gunmen were chasing him and Thea across one of the Smithsonian's gardens.

The emergency doors dumped them onto a slick walkway made from red bricks. It bordered a section of grass occasionally disrupted by vibrant flowerbeds constructed into intricate patterns, which were currently drowning under the torrents of rain falling upon them. Grey benches and pale pink Japanese Cherry Blossoms bordered the brick path Henri and Thea sprinted down.

Henri cursed loudly as he nearly slipped. His dress shoes weren't the best for fleeing masked gunmen, but they'd have to do for now. Thea pushed ahead of him. Her fists were full of her dress' black fabric as she tried to keep it from impeding her running. Wiping his hazel curls out his face, Henri peeked over his shoulder.

"They're gaining on us!"

"Where do we go?!"

He didn't have an answer for her. He barely knew where they were.

At the end of the pathway stood a gate that opened out into the street. Cars whizzed by in a blur of lights and colors, completely unaware of what transpired at The Smithsonian. Henri's face lit up as they approached the gate.

"We need to get to the street!" he told Thea.

His idea centered around hailing someone—or multiple people—down to help them. The gunmen surely wouldn't attempt anything with that many witnesses around. Then again, they did crash a private event like it was a college party. Perhaps they didn't care about being spotted or collateral damage. To make matters worse, it was late. And raining. There wouldn't be many people out on the sidewalk at this time.

But what other options did they have?

"Come on!" he shouted as he continued gunning it for the gate.

A gunshot soared past him before exploding into a wooden bench a few feet away. Henri instinctively dove behind one of the barriers around the flowerbeds and shouted for Thea to follow suit. The two of them took cover as the gunmen let off a few more shots. They continued shooting until one of them said, "Sergei wants them alive, you idiots! Stop shooting!"

The gunfire stopped. Henri's chest rose and fell faster than a hummingbird's wings. Rain droplets slid down his forehead and into his eyes, momentarily blurring his vision.

"We can't stay here," Thea whispered.

That much was obvious.

He carefully peered around the edge of their cover. Three of the six gunmen followed them outside while the other three, including the one named Sergei, remained inside the museum. The trio advanced toward the Beck siblings with their rifles raised. Menacing red lasers cut through the rainy haze, searching for Henri and Thea.

Thea was right—they couldn't remain hidden behind the flowerbed forever. Henri glanced at the gate. Just a few yards away. If they were quick, they could make it. That is if the gunmen decided not to continue shooting. He couldn't be certain they would.

The sound of the gunmen's boots squelching against wet ground clashed with the constant noise of rain hitting the pavement. Squeezing his eyes shut, Henri racked his brain for a way out.

"We can't stay here, Henri," Thea reminded him. "We need to move."

The tables had turned. Now she was the one saying they needed to go. He knew she was right, but he couldn't move. His adrenaline had faded. The fear returned. It crawled up his limbs like spider legs and pricked his skin like the tips of needles. His heart rate spiked. A thin layer of sweat coated his palms.

He didn't know what to do.

"Hey!" a new voice shouted.

The gunmen turned and pointed their weapons in the direction of a shadowy corridor off to the right. Henri did the same, except with his eyes.

"Get out of here, kid!" one of the masked men demanded. "This doesn't concern you."

"The police are already on their way!" the newcomer, still shrouded in the darkness of the outside verandah, replied. "I suggest you guys leave before they get here."

The gunmen exchanged wary glances before redirecting their attention to the person hiding in the corridor.

"I won't tell you again. Get out of here, kid."

Henri squinted at the dark hallway. He couldn't see who it was, but their voice sounded familiar... His eyes widened.

It was him. The waiter who offered him hors d'ouerves earlier stepped into the rain. A determined look had grabbed hold of their face. His sharp jaw was taut. Rain slid down his onyx-colored skin. "Leave them alone."

"You gonna make us?"

The waiter answered with a simple challenging squint of his eyes. He then revealed the empty silver platter that'd been hiding behind his back. Without a word, he flung it toward the armed men like a frisbee. It hit one in the face, the clanging sound rattling in Henri's ears as it hit the slick ground. The gunman stumbled backward with his shoulders raised in surprise. His companions froze.

"Come on!" the waiter shouted at Henri and Thea. "This way!"

They gave each other apprehensive glances before scrambling out from their cover. They kept their heads down as they ran toward the corridor. The gunmen were after them in an instant. They kept behind the waiter as he led them out the outdoor hallway.

The Smithsonian Garden gave way to another section of the museum that was under construction. Scaffolding and water-resistant tarps decorated the outside of a half-finished building. Henri and Thea followed their supposed savior into the structure. Darkness swallowed them whole upon entering the construction site. Dust hung in the damp air, which tasted of mildew and wet wood. It tickled Henri's nose and throat. He desperately needed to sneeze, but he couldn't. The gunmen hadn't followed them inside the building. At least, he didn't think they did. If they had, he couldn't see them.

Maybe that meant they couldn't see him too.

He gradually came to a stop. The shadows around him pressed against his skin, reminding him of just how dark and cold it was. Trying his best to keep his teeth from chattering, he turned to Thea. While he could barely see her, he could feel her presence.

"I think we lost them," she whispered.

"I think so too." He looked around. They'd also lost the waiter who saved them.

Multiple footsteps sounded somewhere behind them. Henri could see the red lasers of the gunmen's rifles probing through the darkness as they searched the inside of the unfinished building. His breath caught in his throat.

"Over here!" a voice hissed off to the side.

Henri squinted in its direction. Relief flooded through him upon realizing it was the waiter. He checked over his shoulder. The gunmen were making their way through the structure now. They hadn't spotted Henri and Thea yet, but they would if they stayed where they were.

"Are you tryna get caught? Come on!" the waiter urged.

Thea breezed past him and joined the stranger. He didn't know who this man was, or why he was helping them, but they were a little short on allies. If his only two options were trusting this person or letting the gunmen find him, he knew which one he'd take.

With a rueful shake of his head, he followedbehind his sister and the waiter.