you owe us. · Y/n story by @meekmills444

The ceiling fan clicked overhead, a slow, rhythmic whir that did nothing to cut the summer humidity. Jessica's phone buzzed on the nightstand for the third time in ten minutes. She didn't reach for it. She just stared at the glow, face half-buried in her pillow.

Jessica

whispers He's been blowing up my phone all night. Says he's in trouble.

Outside, the street was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you notice every creak in the house, every shift of the floorboards settling. Then a new sound — low, deliberate, coming from the front porch. Footsteps. Not the soft shuffle of a neighbor's cat. Heavy boots. Three sets of them.

Jessica

sits up, eyes wide Y/n? Did you hear that?

The front door handle rattled. Once. Then a sharp, metallic click as the lock gave way. The footsteps moved inside.