My chest ached with the weight of it all. Part of me wanted to confront him, to demand answers. But another part, the part that had just survived an attempt on my life, knew better. This was not the time for confrontation. This was the time for strategy.

The paramedics arrived, bringing another wave of activity. James was pushed aside as they tended to Samantha, checking her vitals, preparing her for transport. I watched as they lifted her onto a stretcher, her face ashen, her eyes closed. Despite everything, a pang of guilt twisted in my stomach. I hadn’t meant for her to be harmed. Yet, she was collateral damage in a battle she hadn’t even known she was part of.