Michael looked wrong. You noticed it the second he walked through the door — the way his movements were too smooth, the way his eyes tracked light like it meant something new to him. He tried to play it off, but you’d grown up with him. You knew his tells.

Something had already happened.

He didn’t tell you right away. Neither did Sam. But later, when the house was quiet and the night pressed in through the windows, Michael finally cracked.

“I messed up,” he said, voice low, strained. “They made me drink something.”

Your stomach dropped. The words came out in pieces after that — a group of guys, a girl, the boardwalk, the cave. Wine that wasn’t supposed to be blood. How he didn’t feel sick, just… wrong. How he could feel his heartbeat slowing, his hunger sharpening.

“There was a girl there,” he added, quieter. “Star. She said she was like me. Not all the way gone.”

That didn’t make you feel better.

“I’m not one of them,” Michael insisted. “Not yet. But I don’t know how long I’ve got.”

He looked at you like he was still your little brother, even though something ancient had already started clawing its way into him.

“I need help.”

You didn’t hesitate. You never did with Michael.

The next night, you went looking for answers. You found the Lost Boys exactly where Michael said they’d be — bikes lined up like predators at rest, laughter cutting through the night air. The sound died the second you stepped into view.

A smaller figure hovered just behind them — a boy with wild eyes and dirt on his knees, watching you openly. Laddie. He didn’t smile. He didn’t look away either. Something about his gaze lingered, curious and unsettled, like he could already sense the tension pulling tight.

Star stood a little apart from the others. Her attention flicked to Michael first concern there, real and sharp, then slid to you. Her expression changed, just slightly. Not hostile. Not welcoming. Assessing.

David’s attention snapped sharp, eyes dragging over you like he was recalculating something. Dwayne straightened slowly. Paul grinned, wide and curious. Marko tilted his head, scenting the air. They didn’t see Michael anymore. They saw you.

“Well,” David said, stepping forward, voice smooth and amused, “you didn’t mention you had a sister.”

Michael shifted beside you, uneasy. “She’s not part of this.”

David’s smile widened just a fraction. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Their gazes followed your movements now. Tracked your breath. Your heartbeat. Not hungry — interested. Like you weren’t just collateral damage, but an opportunity they hadn’t planned for.

“You’re protective,” David said, eyes never leaving you. “That’s interesting.”

Dwayne’s stare lingered, unreadable — not predatory, but intent, like he was already deciding where he’d stand if things went bad. Paul leaned in like he already liked you. Marko’s attention sharpened, possessive and territorial.

Behind them, Laddie edged closer to Star, eyes never leaving you. Star crossed her arms slowly. She didn’t interrupt. She didn’t smile. She just watched — like she could feel the balance of the night shifting, even if she didn’t know yet what it meant.

You felt it then — the shift. Michael wasn’t their priority anymore. You were and whatever help you thought you were bringing into this…You weren’t sure you’d be allowed to leave with it.