Rose's face had lost all color, her hands clasped together as if in silent prayer. Samantha's breaths came in heavy, rapid bursts, her eyes wide with fear. Lucia, though her heart raced, wore a mask of bravery, her gaze fixed on the tree line.
Through the phone, Bradley's voice was steady, "Keep your heads down and stay out of sight. I need you to give me everything you can—clothing, height, anything."
Lucia peered through the branches, "He's… tall, dark jacket, I think. It's hard to see."
"Okay, stay calm. You're doing great," Bradley reassured her.
Huddled behind the tree, Rose's lips moved in a silent prayer, "Lord, if you help me, I'm going to go to church every Sunday," she vowed, her voice a mere breath.
"Liar." Lucia Said.
The distant wail of police sirens cut through the tension, and Lucia let out a shaky sigh of relief. Peering out, she saw the shooter sprinting away. "Bradley, he's getting away," she whispered into the phone.