I finally got my own Airpods. But I hear something terrifying when I wear them. [Part 3]

Part 1
Part 2
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Of course I didn't send the Airpods back. Those things had the power to uncover every lie in the world. Condemn the guilty. Exonerate the innocent. I wouldn't part with them for the world.
Maybe that was a mistake. At 2:45 AM, I jolted awake to a clicking sound.
Click, click, click. Reverberating through the little house like metallic, off-beat ticks of a clock.
I extricated myself from the tangle of blankets. I crept over to the window, parted the blinds, and peered outside.
Two figures stood on the doorstep. One stood in the shadows, immensely tall, his eyes hidden in the shadows of a baseball cap. The other hunched in front of the door. Hands deftly working to pick the lock.
"No, no, no," I whispered. What do I do? Slowly, silently, I grabbed the Airpods.
As soon as I popped them in, I heard the man's voice.
Four words.
"****. She heard us."
I jumped out of bed. Backed away. Grabbed a coat hanger from the closet with a grunt. I can poke them in the eye --
"She thinks she can bring us down with a coat hanger, George!"
They're wearing Airpods too.
They can hear what I'm thinking.
I threw the coat hanger to the floor and grabbed my phone. My fingers raced across the screen. 9-1-1 -- "Come on, come on --"
"Don't do it. Look... we're just coming to take the Airpods back. You give 'em back and there's no trouble. If you call 911 -- then we'll have trouble.