No voices. No running. No sound to explain what was happening beyond the storefront. The silence did not feel like safety. It felt like the moment before something decided whether it was finished.
Willow lay where she had fallen, pressed against the tile, her side burning in slow, spreading pulses. The pain had changed, settling into something heavier, deeper, as if her body were filling with weight instead of blood. She was aware of her breathing in a detached way. Each inhale stalled halfway before she forced it lower. Each exhale trembled, uneven and weak. She could feel herself doing it wrong and could not fix it.
The woman beside her had pulled away.
