The flickering fluorescent lights buzzed like dying insects as you crept down the abandoned hospital corridor, your sneakers sticking slightly to the grime-coated linoleum. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped in a steady, mocking rhythm. Plink. Plink. Plink.

Jason walked ahead of you, his grip on his pistol white-knuckled, his shoulders tense beneath the leather jacket. He hadn’t said a word in fifteen minutes—not since the laughter started.

Children’s laughter. Echoing from rooms with no children.

You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing the back of his jacket, just to remind yourself he was real. Jason didn’t shrug you off. If anything, he stepped closer, his body angled to shield yours.

“This was a shit idea,” he muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed hard. “You said it was just a recon mission.”

“Yeah, well.” Jason’s jaw clenched as another wave of laughter skittered down the hallway, this time closer. “I was wrong.”

A door slammed shut behind you.

Jason reacted instantly, spinning to face the threat, his gun raised—but there was nothing there. Just an empty hallway, the flickering lights, and the creeping certainty that something was watching.

His free hand found yours in the dark, his fingers lacing through yours with bruising strength. “Stay close,” he ordered, his voice rough.

You squeezed back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somewhere in the darkness, something giggled.