Al arrived at the front gate of his house just as the sky had surrendered its light. The sun had set far too quickly… or maybe he had just delayed his return for too long.
His mind had been so consumed by the killing intent that he'd completely forgotten about his appearance.
His shirt was dull and worn, his pants had a small tear at the knee from his earlier movements, and his right shoe was wet from some random puddle in the alley. Luckily, it didn't smell—it was only a minor splash.
At the same time, a black SUV rolled into the driveway. Through the slowly lowering window, Sarah stared at Al—walking with a tired look and a hazy mind.
A small smirk curled on her lips—the victorious smile of a sister who'd just found new ammo against her long-time enemy... her own younger brother.
"Perfect," she whispered, stepping out of the car like a celebrity finishing a shoot for a family drama series.
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