18 Years back Silverline City
Rain lashed against the farmhouse roof like a thousand trembling fingers, each drop echoing the terror that filled the night. The storm swallowed the countryside whole, turning trees into shadows and the dirt paths into black rivers. But inside the old wooden farmhouse of the Jefferson family, the true storm was not the one in the sky.
It was the one breaking a family apart.
Gunshots rattled through the open fields, sharp flashes cutting through the darkness. Muzzles flared behind hedges and fences as armed attackers closed in, surrounding the property like hungry wolves.
Inside the dimly lit bedroom, a young boy knelt on the wooden floor, his small hands pressed desperately over the bullet wound in his mother's abdomen. His palms were slick with warm blood, trembling as he tried to hold back the life that was spilling out of her.
His mother gasped, her breath uneven and fading.
