C38 Held at Gunpoint

The room felt suffocating, a prison of stale air and dread. Dr. James stood before me, the gun steady in his grip, his eyes cold and calculating.

Pathetic,” he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Dragged into your husband’s mess, now you're just a target. Helpless. A lamb that thinks it's safe in a wolf’s den.”

Panic surged; my pulse a frantic drum against my ribs