Freda Pov
The front door panel splintered with a loud, hollow boom that made the iron bolt jump in its brackets. I gripped the wooden broom handle tight, my palms sliding against the thin wire wrap near the blade. Outside, the night air was full of sharp, angry shouting and the heavy thud of iron axes hitting the cedar siding of the porch.
"They are hitting the left shutter," Rex shouted from the side wall. He swung his heavy iron pipe downward, smashing it through the split pine wood as a rogue's arm reached through the gap. A sharp yelp came from the dark outside, followed by the sound of boots sliding down the gravel path.
"Keep the angle low, Rex," I said.
I turned and ran back toward the short hallway that led to Urdon's room. The ten omegas were pressed against the baseboards of the dining room, their hands covering their ears as the noise of the axes rattled the ceiling logs.
