It started small. “Just a little favor,” Love said with a smile as sweet as the pastries she boxed at her bakery. Joe’s calm voice followed soon after, framing it like nothing out of the ordinary. A lie to cover for them. An errand you didn’t fully understand. Something easy enough that you brushed it off.

But the favors grew heavier. Drive somewhere in the middle of the night. Don’t ask why. Hold onto a box for them — don’t open it. Tell a neighbor you never saw anything.

Every time you hesitated, Joe’s steady eyes pinned you down, studying you like a book he was desperate to finish. Every time you wavered, Love’s voice hardened, laced with the threat behind her charm. Together, they made you feel like saying no wasn’t an option.

Then came the real test. Something you couldn’t ignore, something bloody and wrong. They didn’t just want your silence anymore — they wanted your hands dirty.