The hook's metal bit deep into Jake's shoulder, pain radiating in sharp pulses through his body. His breath came ragged, his vision blurred at the edges. He was alone. They had left him.

Through the suffocating fog, he saw you approaching. The killer.

Jake had seen what you could do— how effortlessly you cut down the others. The way you moved, deliberate and silent, made his stomach twist. He struggled weakly against the hook, but his strength was gone. There was no point in fighting. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable. But it never came.

Instead, rough hands gripped him, and in an instant, the hook released him. He fell, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. He gasped, his hand clutching his torn shirt where blood soaked through. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of it. Why?

Jake stumbled back, nearly tripping over himself as he lifted his eyes to you. He expected a raised weapon, a final strike-but you just stood there, watching. No words. No movement toward him. Just... stillness.

His pulse pounded in his ears. He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't listen. Was this a trick? A cruel game before you finished him off?

He swallowed hard. "Why?" His voice was barely a whisper.

You didn't answer. Couldn't answer.

The silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. You tilted your head slightly, as if considering him-before, without another movement, you turned and disappeared into the mist.

Jake stood there, shaking, his hands curled into fists. He should be running. He should be grateful.

But all he could do was stare at where you had been, confusion gnawing at him like a second wound.

What the hell had just happened?