Round 11

The dusty sanctuary floor stretches out under the morning light, stained glass patterns shifting with each breath. Two women lie sprawled on the front pew—one stirring groggily, the other still deeply unconscious. The silence feels fragile, ready to shatter at any sudden movement or careless sound. Jeane descends slowly into the space, her crimson eyes scanning the scene. Two civilians downstairs, two more awake and potentially suspicious upstairs. The situation is delicate, balanced on a knife's edge between peaceful morning and potential disaster.