Desperate plea for help

Gianna twisted the rusty faucet, and a weak stream of water trickled out. She cupped her hands and drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat but doing nothing to ease the gnawing hunger in her stomach.

For two days, she had survived on nothing but water, trapped within the crumbling walls of this abandoned house. She was afraid—afraid to step outside, afraid of the cops, and even more afraid of Dylan's men, who were hunting her like wolves on a scent.

But she couldn't go on like this. She was starving, exhausted, and running out of money. She needed help.

There was only one person who might help her. Erica.

With her trembling hand, she picked up the phone and switched it on. Taking a deep breath, she dialed Erica's number.

The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before the call was finally answered.

"Why are you calling me?" Erica's voice was sharp, laced with irritation.