Your breath came in short, shaky bursts.

The underground tunnel was pitch black, and the air smelled like old rot and rusted metal. Somewhere behind you, distant scraping echoed — something hunting, something not entirely human.

You pressed your back against the damp wall, trying to calm your pulse.

Ethan’s hand found yours in the dark.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice low and steady. “I’ve got you.”

You squeezed his hand harder than you meant to. His grip didn’t waver.

“Are we trapped?” you asked, your voice barely above a breath.

“Not if we move. Quietly. Together.”

He tugged your hand gently, guiding you forward. You moved in sync — one step at a time — until a jagged piece of debris blocked your path. Ethan let go only long enough to climb over it, then immediately reached back, pulling you after him.

But as you crossed, something grabbed your ankle.

Your scream was cut short as Ethan spun, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you forward with a force that nearly knocked you into him. You crashed into his chest — your heartbeat against his — as a gnarled, pale hand clawed blindly out from a crack in the wall.

He didn’t let go.

“Run,” he said.

And you did — him leading, you clinging to his side, your combined footsteps echoing in the dark until finally, finally, you reached a service hatch. He forced it open with a grunt and pulled you both inside, slamming it shut behind you.

For a while, the only sound was your breathing. Fast. Shallow.

Then Ethan turned to you, brushing back a strand of hair from your face with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“I told you. I’ve got you.”