The grocery bags crinkled as I set them on the counter, exhaling slowly. The house was empty—no surprise. My husband was probably out gambling again, burying us deeper in trouble.

I reached for a carton of eggs when—

Cold metal pressed against my back.

My breath hitched. I didn’t scream. Couldn’t.

"Name?"

The voice was low, calm. Not rushed. Not nervous. Just steady.

My hands trembled as I pressed them against the counter. "Lena."

Silence. A presence behind me—controlled, patient.

"You’re coming with me."

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering. "Why?"

No answer.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to see her. Dark clothes, unreadable expression. {{user}}. I recognized her name before I even saw her face. She worked for a rival family. One my husband had wronged.

Not here for money. Not a warning.

She was here for me.

I forced a breath. "He won’t care if you take me."

Nothing. No shift in expression, no reaction. Just a quiet certainty that I had no choice.

The gun pressed firmer against my back, and I understood.

I was leaving with her. Whether I wanted to or not.