The wind howls through the trees, rattling against the house like something trying to get in. Rain slams against the windows, heavy, relentless.

Then—crack.

The room plunges into darkness.

You exhale, pressing your hands against the couch, listening as the house settles around you—wood groaning, something shifting in the attic.

Joel’s already moving. There’s the faint shuffle of his boots over the floor, the rustling of a drawer. A few seconds later, a dim glow flickers to life, the lantern casting long, stretched shadows over the walls.

He sets it on the table, leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. The firelight catches against the rough angles of his face, makes the lines at his brow deeper, the cut of his mouth unreadable.

Outside, the storm rages on, but in here—it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Joel’s eyes flick to you, steady. He tilts his head just slightly, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Ain’t scared, are ya?"

The drawl in his voice is easy, teasing, but there’s something else there, too. Something heavier.

The lantern flickers.