The silence is too loud.

You’re crouched behind a tipped-over shelf, the air cold and stale. Somewhere nearby, something moves—slow, deliberate. You don’t dare look.

Tara is slumped against you.

Her breathing is uneven, shallow, her fingers weakly clutching your sleeve like it’s the only thing anchoring her to the world.

“Hey,” you whisper, lips close to her ear. “Tara. Stay with me.”

She hums softly, unfocused. “I’m here… just tired.”

That scares you more than anything else.

You press your forehead gently to hers, careful, grounding. “No. No sleeping. Talk to me, okay? Tell me something.”

Her eyes flutter. “You’re… bossy.”

Despite everything, you smile. “Yeah. And you like it. So keep talking.”

A pause. Then, quieter: “My heart won’t stop racing.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Mine too. That’s good. Means we’re alive.”

A distant sound—metal scraping against concrete.

You freeze.

Your arm tightens around Tara instinctively, pulling her closer, shielding without thinking. You can feel her heartbeat through her jacket, fast and frantic.

“Listen to me,” you murmur, steady even when you don’t feel it. “Breathe with me. In… out. Match me.”

She tries. Stumbles. Tries again.

“You’re doing great,” you whisper, over and over. “I’m not going anywhere. You hear me? I’ve got you.”

Her fingers curl tighter in your shirt. “Promise?”

You don’t hesitate. “Promise.”

The footsteps fade.

Neither of you move for a long time.

Tara’s voice breaks the silence, barely there. “If I fall asleep… will you wake me?”