Your legs burned, your chest heaved, but you couldn’t stop—not when the undead were right behind you. He was pulling you forward, gripping your wrist like a lifeline, like letting go wasn’t an option.

The gate was in sight. Just a few more steps. Then you made your choice.

The second he stepped through, you ripped your hand away and shoved the gate shut, locking it with trembling fingers.

“Wait—what are you doing?!” He spun around, slamming into the gate.

You stepped back, gripping the chains so he wouldn’t see how badly your hands were shaking. “You have to go.”

His whole body shook as he grabbed the bars. “No, open it! Open it now!”

He pulled out the crowbar with shaking hands. “I’ll break the lock. Just hold on!” He jammed it into the chains, his breath ragged.

You closed your eyes. You knew he’d fight for you until his last breath. That’s just the kind of person he was.

But he didn’t know the truth.

Then, silence.

You opened your eyes to find him staring. His chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, but his hands had gone slack.

He saw it.

The veins, thick and black, creeping up your neck like a death sentence.

His breath hitched. "No…” His voice cracked.

Tears burned behind your eyes, but you forced a smile. “You have to run.”

His grip tightened around the gate, knuckles white. “No. No, I can still—” His voice wavered, his head shaking violently. “There has to be a way—there’s always a way! Please—”

A guttural growl sounded behind you.

You didn’t move.

He was still trying to break the lock, still fighting, but you could see the way his hands trembled, how his breath was coming in uneven, gasping sobs.

“No,” he whispered, tears slipping down his face now. “Please…”

You smiled—one last time. A real one, meant only for him. “Thank you.”

And then the horde crashed into you.

The last thing you saw was his face twisted in agony, his screams ripping through the air as he pounded against the gate.