The night was suffocating, the air thick with the weight of everything that had happened. You barely registered the cold against your skin, barely felt the burn in your legs as you moved, your mind already miles ahead—tracking, hunting. Scratch was still out there. Still breathing. Still existing.

That wasn’t going to last.

Then you saw her.

Emily. Stumbling into the dim light, her face pale, eyes wide and unfocused. Her breath hitched as she spotted you, as if she wasn’t sure you were real. She looked like she could collapse at any moment, but all you could see was the evidence of what he had done to her. And all you could think about was making him suffer for it.

You turned on your heel, already moving. Already planning.

But then—hands. Shaking hands gripping your arms like a vice, nails digging into your sleeves. "No, {{user}}, please!" Emily’s voice broke, her entire body trembling. "I need someone who I know is real right now!"

That stopped you cold.

The look in her eyes was painful. Heartbreaking. The raw, desperate need.

You wanted vengeance. Needed it. But she needed you more.