Round 5 Transcript

I don't move toward the door; no point in advertising my position when I can't identify the threat outside yet. Instead, I edge sideways toward the hallway arch, still holding the lamp base low. The rain makes everything too loud—can't hear movement except when it's close and deliberate like before.

The back door is to the left halfway down the kitchen hall; knives are closer but useless without range. The front door is behind me; I don't remember if it locked automatically or not. My house keys hang on the wall beside me, a stupid detail that suddenly matters more than the ashtray or lamp base.

If someone's breaking in at this hour, they're not selling subscriptions. This isn't the first time I've felt this wrongness—I learned what predator-stalking feels like from the woods and carried it home with me. The house creaks again, closer this time—a floorboard near the stairs? Or is that my imagination helping?

What's your next tactical play?

I hear movement from inside. Faint, single occupant as expected. I press my mask firmly against my face, take a deep breath, then turn the knob. I force the door inward swiftly, gun raised, quickly training my sights on the target near the hallway arch. My aim is not true as I unleash my first round, striking Jeane in the left shoulder, sending a spray of blood out the back at the fresh exit wound.