It was loud. Measured. Confident.
Rick froze.
“What the hell?” he muttered, wiping sweat from his face.
He opened the door.
And found himself staring at a tall man in leather, tattoos crawling up his neck, eyes cold and steady.
“Evening,” Crow said calmly.
“What do you want?” Rick snapped.
Crow smiled slightly. Not friendly. Not cruel. Just certain.
“I think you need to calm down.”
Rick scoffed. “This is none of your business.”
Crow stepped closer.
“When there’s a scared kid in the house,” he said quietly, “it becomes my business.”
Rick’s face drained of color.
What Happened Next
No one knows exactly what Crow said after that.
Neighbors later reported raised voices—but no violence. No gunshots. No sirens.
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