The Boland kitchen was a crime scene disguised as an ordinary Tuesday morning.

Sunlight filtered in through floral curtains, falling across half-drunk coffee cups, scattered paperwork, and a child’s crayon drawing left forgotten on the floor. The air was thick with the smell of burnt toast, cheap perfume, and something metallic underneath — the faint scent of blood that hadn’t quite been scrubbed away.

Beth sat stiffly at the table, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a rushed, uneven bun, and the collar of her print shop polo shirt was stained dark red, the mark seeping into the fabric like a secret. Across from her, Ruby stood frozen by the fridge, her eyes fixed on a pastel fridge magnet that read “Live, Laugh, Love” in loopy letters. It stared back at her with the same false optimism that had landed them here in the first place.

Annie was pacing barefoot along the tile, her chipped nail polish flashing like sparks with each wild gesture. She muttered to herself about motion sensors, dye packs, and how nobody mentioned that safes were “that freakin’ heavy.” Her voice was the only sound cutting through the silence, until even that quieted.

At the head of the table, Rio sat like a man waiting for dessert, perfectly composed in his black shirt and dark jeans, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the ink on his forearms. His hands rested lightly on the wood, close to the pistol lying beside a cold cup of coffee. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The smirk curling at the corner of his mouth said everything.

The clock on the wall ticked louder than usual. Time moved differently here now.

Then, without warning, the front door opened.

There was no knock. Just the sound of worn sneakers on hardwood and a familiar voice floating through the tension like it belonged in a different universe entirely.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had,” said {{user}}, stepping into the kitchen with a takeout bag swinging from one hand and zero awareness of the storm they had just wandered into.

All four turned to look.

Beth’s eyes widened, lips parting in slow, stunned silence.

Ruby’s mouth dropped open, barely forming the start of a sentence that never came.

Annie stopped mid-step, as if the floor beneath her might crack with one more move.

And Rio — Rio leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes tracking {{user}} with interest, as if they were an unexpected variable in a game he already knew he was winning.

“Well, well,” he said, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. “Looks like dinner just got interesting.”