The house was still when Bethany finally pressed play. She’d been staring at the unknown number for nearly a minute, her thumb hovering over the screen, her stomach a knot of dread.


Tevin’s voice came through — weak, cracked, full of the kind of regret that came too late.


“Bethany… I’m so sorry,” he said, breathless. “I never meant for any of this. I love you. I love Colin. Please—”


A gunshot tore through the message. Then silence.


Bethany screamed, the sound raw and animal. The phone slipped from her shaking hands and hit the floor. A new voice came through the voicemail speaker — the one that haunted her dreams.

“We’re coming for you.”

Her whole body went cold.


She bolted for her father’s room, heart slamming against her ribs. Duck was already awake, sitting in his recliner with a shotgun laid across his lap, eyes steady but hard.


“Daddy!” she cried, stumbling in. “They—they killed Tevin! They said they’re coming for us!”


Nancy appeared in the doorway, robe half-tied, face pale. “It’s time to call the police,” she said firmly.


Duck didn’t argue. He stood, chambered a round, and nodded toward the phone. “Do it.”


Before Nancy could dial, the sharp sound of glass shattering ripped through the front of the house. Then came the pounding — hard, fast, and close.


Duck barked, “Get Colin!”


Bethany ran down the hall, snatching her son out of bed. His small arms clung to her neck as she whispered, “It’s okay, baby, Mommy’s got you.”


In the living room, Duck shouted through the door, voice booming with the authority of a man who’d been tested before.

“I’m going to warn you now — leave this property, or this is it!”

The answer came in gunfire.


Bullets tore through the windows, wood splintered, and glass fell like rain. Nancy grabbed her handgun from the dresser and took position beside her husband, returning fire. The deafening cracks of each shot made the whole house tremble.


Bethany dove under Colin’s bed, pulling him close, covering his mouth as the noise outside rose to chaos. Each round that went off made her body jolt; her heartbeat kept rhythm with the gunfire.


In the hall, Duck grunted — a hit to the shoulder. He fell back against the wall, blood soaking his sleeve. Bethany crawled toward him, but he lifted his hand, signaling her to stay silent. His eyes told her what words couldn’t: Protect the boy.


Then, as suddenly as it began, the gunfire thinned.


“I think they’re leaving!” Nancy shouted, voice shaking. She kept shooting through the shattered window, just to be sure. The night went still — the kind of quiet that felt wrong.


Nancy dragged Duck into the bedroom, slammed the door, and turned off the light. The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air.


“Daddy,” Bethany whispered, clutching Colin. “Are you okay?”


Duck exhaled through the pain. “I’m just fine, sweetheart. Stay low.”


For a moment, only silence. Then — the slow creak of the front door.


Bootsteps.


A familiar, accented voice slid through the hallway.

“Bethany! Colin! Come out and make this easy. The debt has to be paid. Tevin is dead. He put you and your son up for collateral — I’m just here to collect. Let’s get this over with now.”

He moved closer, kicking doors open one by one, each crash echoing through the wooden house.


When he reached Duck’s room, he kicked the door wide open — and Nancy fired.


The shot hit his leg; he went down roaring. He fired back blindly, the muzzle flashing in the dark.


Bethany screamed as a bullet grazed her head. She fell, still holding Colin, her body going limp over him.


“Bethany!” Duck yelled, forcing himself upright despite the pain. He fired again and again until the man stopped moving — until there was nothing left but the smell of smoke and blood and the ringing in their ears.


Nancy fumbled for the lamp, switched it on — and froze. Her hand came away wet when she touched Bethany’s arm. She looked down, saw the spreading red, and her breath caught.


“Duck…” she whispered.


Duck crawled across the floor, ignoring his wound. When the light hit Bethany’s face, the truth struck like lightning. His little girl — gone.


Outside, the wail of sirens grew louder. Police lights flashed against the curtains as officers stormed the property, shouting commands, cuffing the surviving men outside.


Inside, Duck sat on the floor beside Bethany’s body, one arm wrapped around Nancy, the other reaching for Colin — who trembled but didn’t make a sound.


Nancy whispered, “They’re gone. It’s over.”


But Duck couldn’t hear her. His face was blank, the shotgun still across his knees. In his mind, the echo of that last gunshot replayed again and again, each one louder than the sirens.


He looked at Nancy — the grief already turning to anger. “You should’ve taken the headshot,” he said quietly, voice breaking. “You should’ve finished it before she—”


Nancy broke into sobs.


Outside, the officers moved carefully through the wrecked house. Inside, the family’s silence said everything.


The debt had been paid — but at the highest cost.