Round 3

As Jeane stepped into the kitchen, the creaking from below grew louder, a deliberate movement that told her the intruder was now closer to the back door. The brass lamp on the side table cast an uncertain glow, its heavy base a potential weapon if needed. She gripped the iron poker tightly, her heels clicking sharply on the wooden floor as she moved toward the narrow hallway leading down to the basement. The air was thick with tension, the scent of gunpowder mingling with the damp earth smell of the rain-soaked woods outside.

The Force stood in the shadows, her eyes fixed on the hallway as she checked her grip on both guns. The floorboards groaned again, a low vibration that seemed to echo through the house's bones. Her thumbs found the safeties by muscle memory alone, her hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She watched Jeane with an unblinking gaze, her expression a mask of calm determination.

The rain hammered against the windows, blurring the black trees outside into a solid wall of night. The front room was bathed in an eerie silence, broken only by the creaking sound from below and the soft hum of the lamp.