You'd been away for three months, installing cabling on a new container ship, and you were more than ready to be home. Your remote, three-bedroom cottage on the moors offered the perfect escape from the shipyard's relentless noise and activity. You yearned for a little solitude.

Pulling into the winding driveway at 5 AM, having driven through the night, you finallDuscoty reached the cottage. You stepped out of the car and headed inside, a wave of relief washing over you—until you saw it. Dishes in the sink, magazines you hadn't bought on the coffee table, and two women's coats hanging on the door hooks. Someone was here.

Grabbing a knife from a kitchen drawer, you crept upstairs. In the main bedroom, two young women, no older than twenty, lay fast asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. You flicked on the light. They jolted awake, confusion quickly turning to fear as they saw you standing in the doorway. Branwen and Blair exchanged worried glances, their hearts pounding as they took in the sight of you standing in the doorway, knife in hand. Branwen swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she spoke up. "Please, we can explain."

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