The night was wrapped in an eerie silence. Everyone was sound asleep.

“Help…” a voice cried out, trembling and desperate, echoing along the empty road. Someone was running—fleeing from something unseen.
“Help me, please…” The voice cracked with terror.

Only the moon bore witness to the horror unfolding below. The woman stumbled between running and walking, her breath ragged, eyes searching for any sign of light, a house, a person—anything in the darkness.

Sweat and tears mixed on her face as she sprinted down the road that led toward the forest.

“Help!” she screamed again, louder this time, praying someone would hear.

Then—laughter.
It came from behind her. They were following.

She didn’t dare look back. Instead, she gathered the last of her strength. Her body ached with exhaustion; her skin burned from the wounds she’d received while escaping those merciless men.

Her legs trembled. Fear coursed through her, but she didn’t stop.
She couldn’t stop.

My God, please help me… I’m not ready to die.

The laughter grew louder. Then—nothing.
Darkness swallowed her.

When she came to, her wrists were bound tightly. Panic surged through her chest. She searched wildly for someone—anyone—to help her.

Then, a gunshot.
Her leg went numb. Pain exploded through her nerves. Still, she tried to move.

Another shot echoed through the night. She gasped, terrified that the next bullet might find her heart.
Her right arm burned. Warm blood trickled down, glistening red beneath the moonlight.

She stared at it—shocked.
It was her blood.

Her vision blurred. Her body collapsed to the ground, her limbs heavy. That was when she realized it—she’d been shot.

A third gunshot.
The bullet tore through her stomach.

She fell onto the cold cement road, her blood pooling around her. Her breathing grew shallow, ragged.

Is this it? Will this be my grave? Am I really going to die here? she thought, tears streaking her face.

“Is she dead?” a voice asked.

“She’s still breathing,” another answered.

A boot slammed into her wounded leg. She cried out in agony.

“People like you are hard to kill,” one of them sneered. “Like weeds.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled hard.

“You’ll pay for this…” she whispered, fighting back the darkness.

The man smirked. “Give me the gun.”

Laughter rippled among the others. The barrel pressed cold against her temple.

“I… I’ll never forgive you,” she hissed, anger flickering in her fading voice.

“Any last words, sweetheart?” the man asked mockingly.

She didn’t answer. The gun went off.

The chaos faded into silence.

I’ll come back… I’ll return… she repeated weakly in her mind as the world went dark.

******

“Let’s go. Mission accomplished,” one of the men said, lowering his weapon.

“Sister? What did you do to my sister?!” a young woman’s voice screamed.

The leader motioned for his men to release her. She ran to the lifeless body lying in the road.

“Sister!” she sobbed, shaking her.

“You’ll be joining her soon,” one of the masked men said, aiming his gun at her.

“What did we ever do to you?” she cried.

“Oh? You really don’t know?” he replied with a mocking smile. “Well, since you’re about to die anyway…” He paused, his grin widening.
“Your parents ordered your execution.”

The words hit her like a blade. She froze, disbelief written all over her tear-stained face.

“Why? Why?” she begged, her voice breaking apart.

“We don’t know,” the man said flatly. “We just follow the money.”

The last of her hope vanished. They opened fire.

She fell beside her sister, their blood mingling on the cold pavement.

“Boss, aren’t we disposing of the bodies?” one of the men asked.

The leader removed his mask. “No. Our employer wants the news of their deaths to spread.”

The men nodded and returned to their van as if nothing had happened.

He looked back once more. The two sisters lay still—one clutching the other even in death.

He reminded himself it was just a job. Still, the echo of gunfire wouldn’t leave his mind.

His phone buzzed. The client’s laughter filled his ear—satisfied, delighted that the sisters were gone.

They were killed because they stood in the way of greed.

You didn’t pull the trigger, he told himself. You just did what you were told.

But guilt was already creeping in.

Why now? he wondered. I’ve done worse things before.
Maybe it was because he, too, had sisters.

He couldn’t imagine them ending up like this.

He exhaled shakily, rubbing his temples.
That won’t happen. It can’t happen.

Before heading home, they split the money.

When he walked through his front door, he wasn’t a killer anymore—
just a loving older brother coming home to his family.

A man living a life built on blood and secrets.