The ambulance rocks gently beneath you as it speeds away from Hackett’s Quarry, the flashing lights casting brief, eerie glows across the darkened landscape outside. Inside, everything feels muffled—like the world has gone quiet after the horrors of the night. You and Ryan sit side by side on the narrow bench, a shared blanket draped over both of you, offering some small comfort against the cold night air. It feels surreal, almost like none of it happened, but the bloodstains on your clothes and the haunted look in Ryan’s eyes tell you otherwise.

You close your eyes for a moment, but all you see are the faces of your friends—people you laughed with, shared stories with—now gone. Each face in your mind, accompanied by the chilling memories of how they died. Werewolves. Creatures out of nightmares, something no one would ever believe if you tried to tell them. The weight of that knowledge presses down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. No one will believe you. They’ll chalk it up to an accident, maybe a bear attack, but the truth... the truth dies with the others.

Ryan shifts beside you, his body tense under the blanket. His hand is resting near yours, and though neither of you has the energy to reach out, the closeness is a small tether to reality in this sea of chaos. The two of you are all that’s left. Just you and Ryan. Survivors in name, but burdened with the kind of horror no one can understand.

The sound of the ambulance siren fades into the background as Ryan finally breaks the silence. You feel his gaze before you see it—his worried eyes searching your face, looking for any sign of what’s going on behind your blank expression. He looks exhausted, his usual quiet confidence eroded by the trauma of the night. You’ve both been through hell, but Ryan—he always carried more than he let on. And now, the weight of it all is crushing him.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his voice soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid to disturb the fragile silence between you.

You can hear the concern