Mary sat in her luxurious living room, the dim light casting soft shadows on her face. Her fingers drummed rhythmically on the armrest of her leather couch as she waited for the call. A sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips, anticipating the news.

Finally, her phone rang. She checked the caller ID: Ranson. The smile widened even more as she answered. Knowing he makes no mistakes.

"Hello, Ranson. I hope you’ve got good news for me," Mary said, her tone dripping with confidence.

"Yes, ma’am," Ranson's gruff voice replied. "It’s done. The report we’re getting is that Leah’s been hit. If she ain’t dead yet, she’s pretty...