Sharon's heart raced as she darted into the kitchen, her bare feet pattering softly against the cold tiled floor. Her breath was shallow, her nerves fraying with every second that passed. Her eyes frantically scanned the room as she sought a hiding spot. She had barely managed to slip into the pantry when she heard the creak of the living room floorboards. Jake was already clearing the area—hastily tossing pillows back onto the couch and straightening a few picture frames on the wall. The tension in his movements betrayed his anxiety.
He muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Sharon to hear, "Why now, Claire?" His voice was tense, tight with urgency.
He gave the room one final glance, ensuring that nothing out of place might raise suspicion, then moved toward the front door. He took a breath and opened it.
