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Julian slowly raises his hands. "We don't want any trouble," he says, his voice steady. "We'll do whatever you need."
"Phones and purses. Now." The man's voice is muffled behind his mask, but the command is clear.
I fumble with my crossbody bag, hands trembling as I slide it off. Eileen has already handed over her purse. Even Emmy, with teary eyes, surrenders her little pink phone with the sparkly case. The sight makes my chest ache.
"Move," the man orders, gesturing with his gun toward the front of the store. "Everyone against the wall."
Eileen and Emmy walk ahead of us, mother and daughter clasping hands so tightly their knuckles are white. Before I can take a step, Julian's warm hand finds mine. He gives a gentle squeeze, his fingers interlacing with mine as naturally as if we'd held hands a thousand times before.
I close my eyes.
The simple contact grounds me. My racing heart slows just enough to let me breathe again. His thumb traces small, reassuring circles on the back of my hand as we follow Eileen and Emmy to the front.
"Sit," the man commands, pointing to the wall near the register.
We slide down against the cold wall, joining the others already there—the cashier with her wild curly hair, hands shaking in her lap; an elderly man leaning heavily on his cane even while sitting; and a young couple huddled together, the girl silently crying into her boyfriend's shoulder.
Eight hostages total. Eight lives in the hands of three men with guns and desperation in their eyes.
Julian doesn't let go of my hand. I should find it strange, this intimacy with a complete stranger, but right now it's the only thing keeping me from falling apart. His presence beside me feels like finding an unexpected ally in enemy territory.
I glance around at our little group of hostages. The cashier catches my eye and gives me a soft smile. The elderly man stares straight ahead, jaw clenched, perhaps remembering other dangers from decades past. Eileen whispers comforting words to Emmy, who is still clutching her candy.
Eight strangers thrown together by bad timing and worse luck. Eight people whose lives just intersected in the most terrifying way possible.
The tallest robber has the cashier by the elbow, forcing her to empty the register. Money flutters into a black duffel bag. His partner is systematically clearing out the locked cabinet behind the counter—cartons of cigarettes, vapes, lottery tickets, and expensive electronics disappearing into another bag. The third man keeps his gun trained on us, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
My phone is gone, but I suspect it's vibrating in my surrendered purse. Daniel, wondering where I am. For once, I wish he knew exactly where I am—maybe he'd call the police. The irony isn't lost on me.
A small sound draws my attention. Emmy's delicate shoulders are shaking uncontrollably now, her face buried in her mom's side. Eileen wraps her arm tighter around her daughter, whispering, "Shhh, baby. It's okay. We're going to be fine."
But Emmy's trembling only intensifies. Her breathing comes in short, panicked gasps that I recognize as the beginning of a panic attack. The guard thief notices too, his posture stiffening.
"Shut that kid up," he hisses, taking a menacing step toward them.
Eileen's eyes widen with fear. "She's just scared. Please—"
"I said shut her up!" The man raises his voice, causing Emmy to flinch and cry harder.
Julian shifts beside me, his hand still holding mine. He finally lets go and reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bag of gummy bears he grabbed earlier. Carefully, he rips it open, pulls out a green one and holds it out toward Emmy.
"Hey," he whispers, his voice soft. "Green ones are magic. They make the scary stuff go away."
Emmy peeks out from her mother's side, hiccuping softly. Her eyes are red-rimmed and wet, fixed on the small green bear in Julian's palm.
"Really?" she whispers back.
Julian nods solemnly. "My grandma told me. Never failed me once."
With a trembling hand, Emmy reaches out and takes the gummy bear. She studies it for a moment before popping it into her mouth. Her chewing is mechanical at first, but gradually her breathing steadies. The trembling subsides.
"See?" Julian smiles. "Magic."
The armed man watches this exchange with narrowed eyes but turns away when Emmy quiets down. I squeeze Julian's hand in silent gratitude, amazed at how this stranger knows exactly what to do in a crisis that has me frozen with fear.
CHAPTER THREE
I can't take my eyes off the door, even after all three men have vanished. My heart still hammers so loudly I'm certain everyone can hear it. The tinny sound of the convenience store's music system feels surreal now—some cheerful pop song completely at odds with what just happened.
