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Her eyes returned to the lunchbox, and she stared it down like it had offended her. A tense, wordless standoff. Seconds ticked by.

Then suddenly, she snatched the box off the table, shoved it closed, and rushed to the door.

She yanked it open and sprinted down the hallway, the box clutched to her chest. Her pulse roared in her ears as she slammed the elevator button and waited, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Ding.

The doors opened, and she stepped in, her reflection jittering in the silver walls.

She barely let the elevator reach the ground floor before she dashed out, spilling into the quiet street, breath catching in her throat. The night was cool, calm, and empty.

Her eyes darted wildly across the sidewalk and parking lot.

“Did he already leave?” she whispered to herself, a flicker of disappointment creeping across her face.

She was about to turn back when something moved.

From the shadows behind a parked van, a familiar figure stepped forward.

Jim.

The same man who had tried to run her down.

His face twisted in a grin. His hand gripped a hammer.

Krystal’s heart plummeted.

She stumbled back a step, voice caught in her throat. Panic thundered through her.

She spun on her heel, ready to run, but—

He was faster.

His footsteps slammed into the pavement behind her as he charged.

The hammer raised.

Her scream never came.

Because before the hammer could fall—

THUD!

A roar shattered the air.

Another loud crash. A grunt. Then something heavy hitting the pavement.

Krystal turned—eyes wide in fear.

Lorenzo.

He was on Jim in a blur of movement, fury pouring out of him like a storm. His fists collided with Jim’s body, each punch laced with rage, each breath like a growl. The hammer clattered away, forgotten.

“Lorenzo!” she gasped, her voice finally returning.

Jim tried to fight back, but Lorenzo didn’t give him room to breathe. Blow after blow, each hit more violent than the last. The sharp crunch of bone echoed through the alley.

“Stop!” she shouted. “He’s down—Lorenzo, stop!”