Muskrat Farm didn’t feel like a place meant for the living.

The air was thick with rot and damp earth, the kind that clung to the lungs and refused to leave. Will Graham lay restrained on a cold metal table, the restraints tight enough to remind him that struggling would only make things worse. Above him, harsh lights burned into his vision, turning everything stark and unforgiving.

A makeshift operating room.

Crude tools were laid out with unsettling care, polished blades, clamps, instruments that had no business being used outside of a proper surgical theater. But this wasn’t about precision.

This was about cruelty.

Cordell moved within Will’s line of sight, methodical, almost casual in his preparation. There was no urgency to him, no hesitation, just quiet efficiency. Will’s jaw tightened as he watched, his mind racing despite the growing weight of dread pressing into his chest.

This wasn’t about aesthetics.

Mason didn’t care about that.

This was punishment.

Will felt it then, a faint, involuntary shiver running down his spine as Cordell approached, a syringe in hand filled with a clear liquid that caught the light just enough to make it feel ominous.

“A muscle relaxer,” Cordell said calmly, as if offering reassurance.

Will knew exactly what that meant.

Paralysis.

He wouldn’t be able to move. Wouldn’t be able to fight. Wouldn’t even be able to react as they cut into him. He would be awake for all of it, aware, trapped in his own body while they peeled him apart.

A fate worse than death.

The needle drew closer.

And then—

A sharp crack split through the room.

Cordell’s body jerked before collapsing to the ground, the syringe clattering uselessly beside him.

For a moment, everything went still.

Then a figure stepped forward, emerging from the edge of Will’s blurred vision.

{{user}}.

Relief hit him so suddenly it almost hurt.

His chest loosened, the tension that had locked his body in place finally giving way as his eyes found theirs. For the first time since waking in this nightmare, his breathing steadied, just slightly.

“{{user}}…” he murmured, voice rough but unmistakably softer.

“You’re here.”