Marcus never thought of himself as a bad man — just a man who ran out of good choices.
Life had taken its turns too fast for him to catch up. One month he was fixing tires at a neighborhood shop, and the next, the shop was closed, the rent overdue, and the fridge light the only thing still shining in his apartment.
So that night, when he saw the silver Honda idling outside the corner store — engine running, keys in the ignition, door wide open — it felt less like temptation and more like survival calling his name.
He looked around. No one. Just the hum of the gas station lights and the faint buzz of a radio inside. He slid behind the wheel, heart pounding, hands trembling with the kind of adrenaline that comes when you’re not sure if you’re saving your life or destroying it.
Then he shifted the …
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