SIXTY-EIGHT

JASON DIDN'T care if the criminals were successfully disarmed by the cops, his priority was Evelyn.

His heart was pounding in his chest, and his hands trembling as his eyes scanned the room for any sign of the woman he loved.

Then he saw her. She was sitting on a metal chair, her hands bound to it. Her eyes were closed, her face was slightly bruised and her cloth bloodied. But she was still breathing, and he felt a rush of relief wash over him.

He ran to her side, dropping to his knees and gently lifting her head, checking her body for any other sign of injury. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"Ja--Jason! She did it. She--she killed Clarissa," Evelyn stuttered, her eyes unsteady. "She killed my sister."

Jason nodded. "Shh! Shh! I know. I know," said softly, trying to free her from her bonds. "Get the keys to this damn thing."

One of the uniform officers passed him the bunch of keys he found on the table while the rest fanned out, securi