2025-06-30 14:51:57
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Eli’s hands shook on the shotgun. His eyes narrowed, jaw tight. He’d seen monsters before, but never one that smiled like it remembered family dinners and childhood fights.Vivian stepped sideways, circling, blade ready. Her eyes never left Rory’s glowing ones. “Dylan, snap out of it. That thing is not your brother. It wants you dead.”But Dylan couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His chest burned as Rory’s grip tightened. His brother’s face—scarred, ruined, wrong—was inches from his. He could smell blood and smoke on him, the exact smell from the night everything burned.“Why, Dylan?” Rory rasped, voice warping, deeper, echoing as though two people were speaking at once. “Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you come back for me?”Dylan’s heart felt like it stopped. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken gasp. Memories slammed into him—his little brother’s hand reaching through the flames, Dylan screaming his name, and then nothing but fire and silence.“I… I thought you wer
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Dylan’s breath hitched. The grin, the voice—it was wrong, like it had been pulled apart and stitched back together. He’d seen men twisted by war, by hunger, by madness. But this wasn’t that. This was something else.The figure staggered forward, blood dripping from a wound in its shoulder, yet it didn’t slow down. Instead, it tilted its head at Dylan like it knew him. Like it had been waiting.“Don’t you recognize me?” it rasped.Dylan’s chest went tight. His pistol trembled in his hand. “No… no, that’s not possible.”Vivian’s eyes darted between them, sharp and calculating. “Dylan. Talk to me. Do you know this thing?”But Dylan couldn’t answer. His throat closed up as the figure stepped into the weak glow from the flickering lamp.For a split second, Dylan’s heart stopped.The face—half-torn, scarred, but there—was familiar. Too familiar.“Rory,” Dylan whispered, voice breaking.Vivian blinked. “Who the hell is Rory?”“My brother,” Dylan said, barely audible. His pistol lowered a fra
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Dylan let out a long, shuddering breath and leaned his head back against the wall. The ache in his shoulders felt like it would never leave, but for a moment, he let himself just… exist. No running, no hiding, no fighting. Just the faint hum of the city outside and the soft weight of two people who, somehow, felt like anchors.“You know,” he started slowly, voice quieter than he intended, “I don’t think I’ve ever slept properly in a bed that didn’t feel like a trap. Not since… well, you know.” His eyes flicked to Vivian, then away. He couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t risk the memory.Vivian hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t speak. Her knife had lowered slightly, but her posture remained tense. Dylan caught the tension in her shoulders, the faint tremble that betrayed how tightly she held herself together. He wondered how much longer she could keep it up before it cracked.Eli, on the other hand, had shifted closer to the corner of the couch, his eyes half-closed but watchful.
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Dylan’s body ached as he leaned back against the wall. His knees cracked when he pulled them closer to his chest, and he almost laughed bitterly. I’m too young to feel this old, he thought. But the laugh never made it out—he didn’t want to wake either of them.Vivian sat where the weak lamp light just touched her face. Shadows carved into her cheekbones, and for a moment, she looked less like a fighter and more like a ghost. Dylan wondered if she’d ever let herself cry, or if she’d already forgotten how.She caught him staring. “What?” she asked, voice sharp but quiet.“Nothing.” He turned away quickly, embarrassed. “Just… wondering how you keep going.”Vivian smirked faintly, though her eyes stayed cold. “You think I keep going because I want to? You think I don’t lie awake wishing I could throw it all away, disappear, pretend none of this ever happened?”Eli shifted on the couch, grumbling. “You’d never survive a quiet life, Vivian. You’d be bored to death in a week.”That made her
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Dylan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Good. Then we rest.”The room stayed quiet. The lamp buzzed, throwing weak light across their tired faces.Vivian put her knife down on the couch cushion. “I’ll take first watch.”Eli shook his head. “No. I’ll do it. You need sleep.”Vivian raised a brow. “Since when do you care?”Eli’s jaw tightened. “I don’t. I just don’t want you nodding off and getting us killed.”Dylan stepped in before the argument could start again. “We’ll split the night. Two hours each. That way no one burns out.”No one argued.Vivian stretched out on the couch, closing her eyes though her grip stayed close to the knife. Eli sat by the table, the shotgun across his lap. Dylan sat down by the wall, watching them both, his mind refusing to rest.The hours dragged. Outside, the city hummed faintly—distant horns, waves hitting the pier, the occasional clang of metal against metal. Every sound made Dylan tense.When Eli finally nudged him awake for his turn a
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The group left the small armory in silence, each of them holding onto their chosen weapon. The night air was cold, biting against their skin as they walked back through the narrow paths of containers. The harbor lights flickered above, casting long shadows that made everything look more dangerous.Dylan walked in front, his pistol tucked at his side, jaw still tight. His thoughts spun faster than he liked. Tomorrow night. Too fast. But if we wait, maybe Marcus is right—the Syndicate will strike first.Vivian broke the silence first. “You two look like someone just told you the world’s ending.”Eli shot her a glare. “That’s because it probably is.”Vivian smirked. “You’re such a ray of sunshine, Eli.”He muttered under his breath. “Better a realist than a fool rushing in with a knife.”Vivian stopped walking and turned sharply, her eyes flashing. “Say that again.”Dylan raised a hand quickly. “Both of you—enough. We don’t have the luxury to fight each other.” His voice was steady, but
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