Rylan laughed again, louder this time.

He picked up his coffee cup and took another sip.

“I know the law, Calla,” he said.

“I’ve talked to lawyers too.”

“You have no grounds to evict me.”

“This is a civil matter.”

“The police won’t touch it.”

“So why don’t you go upstairs, pack your little bag again, and find another motel?”

Solene nodded in agreement, a smug smile returning to her thin lips.

“He is right, dear,” she said.

“You are being very emotional.”

“Go calm down.”

I stood my ground, my hands folded in front of me.

The silence in the kitchen grew heavy.

The only sound was the hum of the old refrigerator in the corner.

Then, the floorboards in the hallway creaked.

A sudden, sharp knock sounded at the heavy oak front door.

It was not a polite knock.

It was loud, authoritative, and demanded to be answered.

Rylan frowned, setting his cup down.

“Who is that?” he muttered.

He turned toward the hallway.

Through the sheer white curtains of the front window, red and blue lights began to flash against the kitchen wall.