Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled out a gun, the black metal glinting under the streetlight. Time seemed to slow down, each second stretching into an eternity as he raised the weapon, pointing it directly at Victor.

"No!" Lauren screamed, her voice cracking, but it was too late.

There was a deafening crack as the gun went off, the sound ricocheting through the quiet suburban street like a thunderclap. Victor’s eyes widened in shock, his hand instinctively flying to his chest as a dark red stain spread across his white shirt. The manila envelope slipped from his fingers, its contents scattering across the ground as he stumbled backward. His legs buckled, and with a final, jerking motion, he collapsed onto the sidewalk, blood pooling beneath him.

"Jake, what the hell have you done?" Lauren screamed, her voice raw with terror.

She moved to rush toward Victor, but Jake’s hand shot out, grabbing her by the arm with such force that she nearly fell.

"He ain’t gonna touch you again," Jake growled, his voice thick with rage, his grip like a vice. His eyes, wild and frenzied, locked onto hers. "I told you I wasn’t playing, Lauren."

Tears stung her eyes as she stared up at him, her mind spinning out of control. This couldn’t be real—this wasn’t happening. But the blood, the gun, Victor’s body lying still on the pavement—it was all too real. She had to get out. She had to run. She needed to call for help.

Before she could act, the sound of another car engine revving caught her attention. Her heart pounded in her chest, stomach sinking as she turned toward the street. Headlights pierced through the darkness, cutting through the haze of fear that clouded her mind. The car slowed to a stop in front of the house, and her pulse quickened when she recognized the driver.

It was Bradley, her husband.