Gianna’s hands trembled, but the barrel stayed steady. Her rage was the kind that had fermented — quiet, patient, bitter. Jasmine froze, eyes darting between Xavier’s tensed frame and Gianna’s fractured silhouette. The silence pulsed.

“I said drop it,” Gianna spat, voice cracking like glass. Her finger hovered on the trigger, her lip split and bleeding.

Xavier didn’t move. “You won’t shoot her,” he said evenly.

Gianna laughed a bitter, unhinged sound. “You think this is ...