Round 16

Jeane descends into the sanctuary, her movements careful despite exhaustion pulling at every muscle. Morning light through stained glass transforms dust motes into floating jewels, painting the room in shifting color. Two women sprawl across the front pew—one stirring groggily, the other unconscious. Silra stands at the base of the stairs, already reaching for a blade—a brutal solution that makes Jeane's skin crawl despite lingering arousal from last night.

Silra's grip tightens on the knife blade as Halie pleads for mercy she doesn't believe these two civilians deserve. The odds are shifting—one of them is stirring now, actively moving toward wakefulness. Time is running out. She turns to face Jeane directly, voice low and urgent. You're right about the mess upstairs. But we're not just dealing with witnesses anymore—they're active threats who can alert authorities or call for help before we can neutralize them quietly.

Jeane's stomach twists with nausea that has nothing to do with last night's exertions. The thought of Silra silencing those women permanently makes her want to vomit, even as part of her recognizes the practical necessity. She opens her mouth to respond—but a sudden creak from upstairs freezes the words.

Fuck. Someone else is awake up there. Jeane hisses, already moving toward the stairs with Silra. We need to check it out—quietly—and figure out our next move before we have more witnesses.