Page 111 of Johan.

She sits up, her expression sharpening as the sound of a door opening downstairs reaches us. My mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. Who could be here at this hour? Lauren and the staff are gone, and Astrid's parents are away.

Astrid's demeanor shifts from confusion to alertness. She jumps out of bed, her movements quick and decisive. “Stay here,” she instructs, heading straight for her parents' bedroom on the other side of the corridor. I follow her, unable to shake the sense of dread settling in my chest.

Inside her parents’ bedroom, I close and lock the door behind us while Astrid pulls out a gun from a drawer, checking if it's loaded. Her hands are steady, but I can see the fear in her eyes.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” she says firmly, but I shake my head.

“I'm not leaving you alone. What if it's just Lauren or a member of the staff coming sooner?” I suggest, though I don't believe it myself.

Astrid glances at me, her expression a mix of worry and determination. “At 2 a.m.?” Her voice is tense, filled with doubt.

She goes back to the drawer and takes out another gun, handing it to me. The weight of it feels unfamiliar and unsettling in my hand. “Do you know how to use it?”

“I guess so,” I reply, my heart pounding in my chest.

“It's an automatic. There's nothing to do but shoot,” she instructs, her voice steady but low.

We hear more footsteps downstairs, confirming that someone is indeed there. Astrid stands behind the bedroom door, listening intently. I can see her mind working, calculating the risks and the next steps.

“Astrid,” I plead, my voice barely a whisper, “let's just stay here and call the police. We don't know who they are or what they want. It’s safer this way.”

Astrid shakes her head. “I’m not staying inside while they steal whatever they want. This is my home.”

I grasp her arm, my heart pounding. “Please, Astrid, don't go down there. It's too dangerous.”

She meets my gaze, her eyes fierce and unyielding. “Call the police, Hannah. Now.”

There's no arguing with her. I can see the resolve in her eyes, and I know she won't back down. My hands are shaking as I pull out my phone and dial the emergency number, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

As I relay the situation to the dispatcher, Astrid unlocks the door of the bedroom and goes out.

“Please hurry,” I whisper into the phone, my voice trembling. “There’s someone in the house. My friend is going downstairs to confront them.”

The dispatcher assures me that officers are on their way, but it does little to calm the storm of fear inside me. I hang up, clutching the phone to my chest as I watch Astrid descend the stairs, her gun held firmly in front of her. Every step she takes feels like an eternity, the silence of the house amplifying thesound of her movements. My mind races with a thousand what-ifs, each more terrifying than the last.

I decide to follow her out of the bedroom, staying behind her at the top of the stairs. My heartbeat thunders so loudly that I can feel it in my throat, each pulse echoing in my ears. The house is illuminated only by the faint light from the moon and stars outside, casting eerie shadows that stretch and shift with each movement. The soft glow filters through the large windows, giving just enough light to see by.

Astrid moves with a quiet determination, her footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted stairs. I keep a safe distance behind her, my breath shallow and my heart hammering in my chest. Every creak of the floorboards sends a jolt of fear through me, magnifying the already intense thudding in my ribcage. My palms are clammy, one hand gripping the gun tightly as I wipe the other on my clothes, trying to steady myself.

As she reaches the bottom, she turns on the light in the foyer, the sudden brightness a stark contrast to the moonlit darkness. The grand entrance hall stretches out before her, empty and still. I remain at the top of the stairs, my eyes squinting against the harsh light. I hold my breath, hoping she doesn't hear the frantic pounding of my heart. I grip the banister tightly, my knuckles white as I peer around the corner, every nerve in my body on high alert.

The cold metal of the gun feels foreign and heavy in my hand, a constant reminder of the danger we might face. The silence of the house feels oppressive, each second stretching into an eternity as I watch Astrid move with purpose. My mind races with questions and doubts, but I push them aside, focusing on keeping my movements quiet and controlled. The air is thick with tension, and I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my temple, mingling with the cold fear that grips me.

“Is there anybody there?” she calls out, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.

There's no response. Astrid proceeds to the living room, the tension in her posture evident as she grips the gun tighter. I take two cautious steps down the stairs, trying to keep an eye on her as she enters the living room. The large room is dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the walls and floor. She moves further inside until she disappears from my sight.

A sudden scream pierces the silence, followed by a gunshot. My blood runs cold as I hear a male voice shout, “Liam!”

“Stay back! I said stay the fuck back!” Astrid's voice echoes through the living room.

“He’s bleeding! He needs to go to the hospital!” the male voice pleads, panic seeping into his words.

“You should’ve thought about that before coming here!” Astrid retorts, her voice steady despite the situation.

The sound of police sirens approaches, their wailing growing louder and more insistent. “Shit! The cops! We need to go! Odin, let's go!” another voice yells, frantic and terrified.

“I can’t go without my brother,” the first voice cries, desperation clear.

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