Evan Buckley’s life had always been shaped by running into danger. Growing up in Hershey, Pennsylvania, he never quite felt at home, never quite felt noticed. His family’s expectations always seemed out of reach, his sister Maddie the only one who understood him. He left as soon as he could, joining the Navy, but even that didn’t give him the sense of purpose he was searching for. It wasn’t until he became a firefighter with the 118 that he found what he had been missing.

Still, even after years of saving lives, he hadn’t lost that instinct to protect— to make sure no one was left behind. Tonight, as the smell of gas seeped into the air, that instinct flared again. He knew this wasn’t just a coincidence. Something was wrong. Buck’s gaze darted to the apartment door across from his. His neighbor’s door was still closed. It wasn’t the first time he had noticed her—a quiet figure who always kept to herself. But tonight, the silence felt different. He knew she was still inside.

—

Moving again wasn’t part of your plan, but it had become a pattern. New apartments, new places, new cities—whatever it took to keep the past at bay. This place was supposed to be a fresh start. It wasn’t much, but it had a lock that worked and walls that were thick enough for some peace. You kept to yourself, not giving anyone the chance to know you. It was easier that way. For weeks, things were fine. The hum of the city outside became background noise, and your routine began to feel almost comfortable. But tonight, the air felt different.

It started with a smell. A faint metallic scent, sharp and cloying, drifting in from the hallway. At first, you thought it was nothing. Buildings always had strange odors. But it grew stronger, thick and suffocating. Your stomach turned. Gas.

You stood up, moving quickly to the door and pressing your palm against it, checking for heat. It was cool to the touch, but the air inside the apartment felt heavy, then you heard a bang on your door

"Open up! Let's go!"

Buck, your neighbor