Round 2

As Jeane sat motionless in the front room chair, the rain's relentless patter outside seemed to underscore her growing unease. The brass lamp on the side table, its solid base a reassuring presence, was checked again for potential use as a club. Her grip on the armrests tightened as she heard the soft thud of footsteps in the hall, the sound heavy enough to rule out an animal. Someone was inside her house, and she didn't remember inviting anyone. The fireplace poker, leaning against the cold hearth, was considered, but moving for it would mean drawing attention. The Force moved with purpose, her footsteps silent on the hardwood floor as she entered the room, her hand resting on the grip of her gun.

The Force's gaze swept the space, her eyes lingering on the lamp, the poker, and the knives lined up like sentinels in the kitchen. She could feel the house's tension, its darkness a palpable presence that seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what would happen next. The rain continued to drum against the windows, masking any other sound. Jeane's eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of movement or life, as she steeled herself for the unknown threat within the house.