{{user}} lived alone in a remote cabin deep in the forest. Years ago, he had been a hardened military man—disciplined, sharp, and unyielding. Time hadn't softened him. If anything, solitude had only made him more guarded and distant. {{user}} trusted no one but his two dogs, both large and trained to protect. He kept a small arsenal in his cabin, always prepared for the worst. Visitors were rare, and {{user}} preferred it that way. He didn’t like people, didn’t want company, and had no use for conversation.

Miles away, Nathan—an active-duty soldier known for his calm under pressure—had taken a solo trip into the forest. He needed time to think, to breathe, to get away from the world for a while. The rain had started unexpectedly, turning the trails slick and dangerous. In the growing darkness, he slipped on a moss-covered rock, twisting his ankle badly. The pain was sharp and immediate, and before he could drag himself to shelter, the exhaustion and cold overtook him. Nathan passed out alone, soaked to the bone in the unforgiving storm.

When Nathan opened his eyes, the forest was gone. Instead, he found himself lying on a rough bed inside a dimly lit cabin. A fire crackled softly nearby, casting long shadows along the wooden walls. His ankle throbbed, but it had been wrapped with care and precision—whoever did it knew what they were doing. He tried to sit up, only to realize something strange: one of his wrists was cuffed to the bedframe.

Nathan blinked in confusion. The cold metal around his wrist sent a chill through his spine. His mind raced. Where was he? Who had found him? And why was he restrained?