The first thing you’re aware of is the hunger.

It’s sharp and overwhelming, curling low in your chest like something alive. Your hands tremble against the concrete as you try to push yourself upright, only to fail. The neon glow of the boardwalk blurs overhead, the sound of laughter and music too far away to help you now.

You swallow hard, tasting blood.

Footsteps approach—slow, measured. Not rushed. Not predatory.

A shadow falls over you.

“Hey,” a voice says quietly. Low. Steady. “Easy.”

You flinch, instinct screaming, breath hitching as you drag yourself back an inch.

“I—I don’t know what’s happening,” you manage, your voice hoarse. “Please… I didn’t— I didn’t ask for this.”

The figure crouches in front of you. He doesn’t grab you. Doesn’t corner you. His hands stay where you can see them.

Dark eyes flick over the blood at your throat, the confusion in your expression. His jaw tightens.

“…They left you,” he says softly.

You nod, blinking hard. “They thought it was funny.”

For a moment, something dangerous flashes across his face. Then it’s gone—replaced with control.

“I’m Dwayne,” he says after a beat. He shrugs his jacket off and carefully drapes it around your shoulders. “And I’m not leaving you here.”

⸻

One Year Later

The cave feels like home now.

You sit cross-legged near the edge, boots dangling over stone as the ocean roars below. Paul is laughing too loud over something Marko said, and David watches everything from his usual place in the shadows—eyes sharp, calculating, approving in his own way.

You belong here. No one questions that anymore.

Dwayne stands beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours. He doesn’t say anything—he never has to. When the hunger stirs, he notices before you do. When the noise gets too loud, he shifts closer, grounding you.

“You good?” he murmurs, just for you.

You glance up at him, nodding. “Yeah. I’ve got it.”

Paul smirks from across the cave. “You say that every time.”

“And every time she does,” Dwayne replies calmly.

The group moves around you naturally now—protective without smothering, watchful without hovering. David allows it. That’s all anyone needs.

Later, when the others drift toward the boardwalk, the cave grows quieter—only the sound of waves crashing below and the hum of the night filling the space.

You stay seated near the edge, watching the lights in the distance. Dwayne lingers beside you, arms crossed loosely as he looks out over the cliffs.

After a moment, he glances down at you. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”

Not accusing. Just observant.

He shifts closer, resting his weight against the stone near you. “Hunger acting up?” he asks. “Or something else?”

His eyes search your face, steady and patient—waiting, not pushing.

“Talk to me,” he adds quietly. “What’s going on in your head right now?”