The cabin is too small for this much fear.

The air feels thick—like the dust hanging in sunbeams has turned solid, pressing down on my chest every time I try to breathe. The storm outside rattles the loose boards in the walls, the thin windowpanes shuddering with every gust. Shadows jump across the floor, stretching and shrinking with the flicker of the lantern on the table.

And in the middle of it all—on the old wooden bed, the mattress creaking under her weight—is El.

Her leg is still bleeding through the bandage. Not a lot, but enough to make my stomach twist. Enough to remind me that she isn’t invincible. She never has been. I just keep forgetting that until something tries to take her from me.

I hate that I forget.

I hate that something in there—moving—is hurting her.

I stand at her side, my hand hovering close to hers but not quite touching, because I don’t know if my touch will help or make her pain worse. Because I don’t know what to do and I’m trying so hard not to let that show. She’s biting down hard, jaw trembling, her eyes squeezed shut like she’s holding back the kind of scream nobody should ever have to swallow.

She looks so small like this. Too pale. Too quiet.

The others move around the cabin, muttering through panic.

Jonathan’s pacing with a knife in his hand—trying to sterilize it over the lantern flame. His movements are robotic, sharp, jittery. Nancy is standing near the foot of the bed, arms tightly crossed, eyes red-rimmed and fixed on El’s leg like sheer force of will might kill whatever’s inside her. Will keeps wringing his hands, shifting his weight from foot to foot, whispering under his breath like maybe he can quietly beg the universe to not take his sister’s best friend away.

And then there’s Robin—talking too fast, talking too loudly, talking because if she stops, I think she might scream.

“Okay, okay, so—it’s like that time my cousin broke his arm at the lake and the bone was like hello, world and everyone freaked out and passed out except me and I really wish I had passed out because I can’t do needles or blood or—”

“Robin,” Nancy says sharply.

“Right! Okay! Sorry! I’ll just—stand here and—panic quietly.”

The room tilts slightly, my pulse thundering in my ears. I try to swallow it down, to stay steady, because El needs calm. El needs someone steady.

But then I see it again.

Under her skin.

The bulge.

The movement.

The way something slides just beneath the surface, traveling upward, like it’s looking for something.

My stomach lurches.

No one should have something alive inside them. Not El. Not anyone.

I feel myself step closer before I realize I’m doing it.

“Are you ready?” Jonathan’s voice cracks a little. He’s kneeling now, the knife trembling in his grip, his eyes darting between El’s leg and her face.

El doesn’t answer with words—just a tiny nod. A brave one. Braver than I could ever be.

I wish it were me instead. God, I wish it were me.

Her fingers twitch like she’s reaching for something. For comfort. For something solid in a world that’s tearing open under her skin.

I grab her hand before I can second-guess it.

“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

Her hand squeezes mine—weak but purposeful—and for a second, I can almost pretend the world is normal. For a second, I can pretend she’s not in danger.

But then Jonathan leans in, knife angled.

Lantern light glints off the blade.

The cabin goes silent except for the storm outside and El’s shaky breathing.

My heart slams so loudly in my chest it feels like it’s echoing off the walls.

I watch Jonathan’s hand lower. Watch El tense. Watch that…thing shift just under her skin, like it can sense what’s coming.

And in my mind—loud, terrified, helpless—I think:

Please. Please let this work. Please don’t take her from me. Please don’t let this be the moment I lose her.

The knife touches her skin.

El sucks in a sharp breath, nails digging into my hand.

And all I can do is hold on.

And pray.

And watch.

Because this is the moment everything could go wrong.

And there’s no running from it.