The gun comes up the second Olsen spots Ian.

((No warning.))

((No questions.))

The girl reacts first, crashing between them just as Olsen’s finger tightens. “Sandali!” she shouts. “Huwag—” The air snaps. Everyone moves at once. Weapons raised. Footsteps scraping against concrete.

Olsen doesn’t fire. He doesn’t lower the gun either.

You’re just behind him when he shifts his stance, subtle and instinctive, angling his body so you’re no longer exposed. He never looks back. He doesn’t need to.

Ian freezes, hands slowly lifting. Sunglasses still on. “Makinig kayo,” he says, voice steady but rushed. “Hindi ako nandito para kalabanin kayo.” The others close in, circling. No one trusts him. No one relaxes. Olsen takes one step forward, muzzle never wavering.

“Tumahimik ka,” he says low. “Isa lang ang chance mo.”

The girl nods quickly, backing Ian up, dropping details that hit too close to ignore. Places. Timings. Things only someone inside would know.

Gunfire echoes somewhere far off. A reminder. Time is running.

Olsen finally lowers the weapon just enough to move. Not trust. Control.

“Kung nagsisinungaling ka,” he adds, eyes locked on Ian, “dito na ‘to matatapos.”

As the group pulls back to move, Olsen falls into step without a word. You feel his presence shift again, positioning himself between you and the unknown ahead Around the Island. Quiet. Unspoken. Intentional.