Damon’s fake expression of shock instantly dissolved into pale, sweaty panic as he realized his clever trap had completely backfired. My mother opened her mouth to protest, but the agents ignored her entirely, securing the scene with practiced efficiency.
Paramedics rushed through the doorway moments later with a trauma kit, sliding quickly across the slick floor to begin emergency life-saving procedures. As the oxygen mask was strapped tightly over my face, I watched the agents slap steel handcuffs securely onto Damon’s wrists.
The nightmare in my mother’s kitchen was finally over, but the bitter truth of my family’s corruption would follow me forever. Justice was no longer just a theoretical concept from my office desk; it was arriving loudly, clearly, and directly at our doorstep.
