As Stella fumbled through the cluttered drawer, her hands shook with urgency. She finally spotted the bunch of keys and was about to turn when, suddenly, a heavy blow struck her head. Michael, desperate and cornered, had grabbed a decorative vase from a nearby table and swung it with all his might. The impact sent Stella crashing to the ground, her head striking the floor with a sickening thud. Blood trickled from her wound, pooling beneath her motionless body. Michael watched, his heart pounding, as her breathing slowed and then stopped entirely.
He snatched the keys from Stella's limp hand and darted towards the back door. He knew time was against him; Kingsley and the police could storm in at any moment. The backyard gate was old and rusted, a relic of a forgotten time, and it had been
