The sky dangled low over the capital Crescent city, swollen with thunderclouds, as if waiting for the right moment to finally collapse. A young lady with a charm that is unbefitting of the environment she is in tightened her grip on the crumpled FINAL NOTICE in her hand, the red stamp glaring up like an accusation she couldn't escape.
"Steph… you're shaking," Taylor said quietly, falling into step beside her. He carried two bags of groceries—one on each arm—like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to take her burdens without being asked.
Stephanie blinked rapidly. "I'm fine. Just tired."
Taylor gave a short scoff. "You were 'just tired' last week. And the week before. And the six months before that."
She managed a small smile even though her chest felt hollow. "Well… consistency is important."
They walked through the noisy market: vendors calling out their prices, kids weaving between stalls, and generators rumbling like restless beasts. The everyday chaos felt normal—but to Stephanie, everything felt heavier today, pressing against her ribs.
Loan sharks had been circling again.
And time was running out.
Taylor glanced at her from the corner of his eye, expression softening in a way Stephanie never noticed—but he always quickly masked. "Give me that," he said, taking the bill from her hand before she could argue. He skimmed it, jaw tightening. "They raised the late fee again. Bastards."
"Taylor… don't. Please," she murmured. "You always get angry for me."
"Because someone has to," he muttered.
Stephanie ignored the warmth in his voice, the one she never interpreted the right way. She'd always seen Taylor as comfort, safety, familiarity—never realizing how hard he tried to be all those things for her.
"Did you tell your mom about your new shift?" he asked, softer this time.
"No. She'll think I'm overworking myself."
"…You are overworking yourself," Taylor said, but his tone wasn't scolding. It was worried. More worried than he should have been… if he were just a friend.
They stopped near a newsstand. A headline about missing people and rising debt violence stared back at them.
Stephanie swallowed.
Taylor watched her. "Steph… you ever think about leaving this place? Starting somewhere fresh?"
She shook her head instantly. "Mom can't handle a move. And we can't afford it."
"You'd stay here forever just to carry everything alone?"
Stephanie didn't meet his eyes. "If it means she lives peacefully… yes."
Taylor's expression wavered, then settled into a quiet ache he never voiced. "You deserve peace too," he said, almost too softly to hear.
She didn't respond—because the moment she admitted she needed help, everything might break.
A distant rumble of thunder rolled across the sky.
Taylor glanced upward. "Storm's coming."
Stephanie nodded, identifying a house she recognized like it is at the back of her hand.
After a while, Stephanie jingled her keys as she pushed open the door to the same small, plain-looking home which she sighted from a distance. The living room was cramped, the walls faded, the furniture mismatched—but to her, it was warmth. Safety. Home.
"Steph? Is that you?" a gentle voice called from the kitchen.
"Yes, Mom. Taylor's with me," she replied.
Maria Rogers appeared with a smile so soft it made the whole house feel brighter. Her hair, streaked with silver from years of worry, was tied loosely behind her head. "Taylor! You're here again. I swear, you visit more than my own daughter."
Taylor chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Someone has to keep an eye on her, ma'am."
Stephanie shot him a glare. "Don't start."
Maria lifted an eyebrow. "Start what?"
Taylor grinned—too eagerly. "Steph picked up a new night shift. Didn't tell you, did she?"
"TAYLOR!" Stephanie hissed, slapping his arm.
Maria gasped softly. "Stephanie Louise Rogers! Another shift? You're barely sleeping as it is!"
"I'm fine, Mom. Really—"
"No, she's not," Taylor cut in. "She nearly fainted yesterday."
Maria whirled around, concern deepening. "Fainted?"
"I DIDN'T faint! I just… sat down too fast."
Taylor shook his head dramatically. "On the floor."
Maria sighed and placed a hand on her daughter's cheek. "Sweetheart… you can't keep pushing yourself like this."
Stephanie softened, her voice small. "I'm just… trying to help."
The three of them settled into the living room. For a few precious minutes, the air felt light again.
Maria teased Taylor about his terrible cooking.
Taylor bragged about almost passing his mechanic certification exam.
Stephanie laughed more than she had all week.
It felt normal.
Safe.
Then—
Knock!
Knock!!
Knock!!!
A hard knock rattled the door.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Louder each time.
Maria froze.
Taylor's smile vanished.
Stephanie's heart plummeted.
That knock… everyone in this neighborhood recognized it.
Stephanie whispered, "No… not this soon."
Maria instinctively reached for her daughter's hand, squeezing tightly. "Stay behind me."
Taylor stood up slowly, jaw tense. "Steph… don't open it."
But it was too late.
The lock twisted from the outside — a trick only people with bad intentions learned.
The door slammed open.
Bang!!!
Three men stepped inside without permission.
Their boots thudded against the wooden floor.
The first was bald, eyes cold and hungry.
The second chewed gum aggressively, cracks echoing through the room.
The third wore rings on every finger — each one stained with rust… or something darker.
The bald one looked around the room with a smug smirk. "Evenin', ladies… mechanic boy."
Taylor stiffened.
Maria swallowed. "W-We told your boss we needed just a few more days—"
"Yeah," Ring-Fingers said, stepping forward, "and the boss said he's tired of hearing that."
Stephanie moved protectively in front of her mother. "Please… we're trying. We'll pay. Just give us—"
Gum-Chewer snapped his gum. "No more time. Rules are rules."
Maria trembled. "Please. Just—just talk calmly—"
But the bald one leaned in close, the smell of tobacco heavy on his breath.
"No more talking, sweetheart. We're here to collect."
And for the first time since entering… he smiled.
A slow, cruel, deliberate smile.
Stephanie felt her blood run cold.
The warm home she stepped into moments ago now felt like a cage — and the wolves had finally come inside.