Riley stood in the doorway of the cabin, the door open to the silent white forest beyond. The early morning chill bit into his skin, but he barely felt it. His eyes were fixed on the thin, clumsy footprints leading from the entrance.

{{user}}.

The reality of the emptiness inside the cabin was a suffocating weight on his chest. The warmth of the place, the remnants of movement, the signs of life… all of it should have contained {{user}} But now there was only a trail leading away, nearly erased by the still-falling snow.

Riley took a deep breath, gritting his teeth. The freezing air scratched his throat. He closed the door slowly, the fingers of his left hand shaking slightly. {{user}} had escaped. The thought throbbed inside him, beating against his skull like a hammer. He should have been furious—and part of him was. But most of all, he felt a sickening heat creeping inside him.

{{user}} thinks he can escape.

Riley ran his tongue over his teeth, following the first step of the trail. The muffled sound of snow giving way beneath his boots was the only thing moving in the white expanse. He knew this forest. {{user}} didn’t. {{user}} had no idea where he was, no idea where to run. The boy was fragile. He had always been fragile.

He would never get that far.

The wind shook the bare branches, and Riley stopped for a moment to study the footprints. Unsteady, oddly spaced, as if {{user}} were struggling with his own legs to keep going. He could almost see the boy stumbling in the snow.

After so long chained up, of course his body wouldn’t obey him properly.

Riley smiled. His poor boy.

His gaze followed the line of the trail, which led down toward a denser area of ​​the forest, where moonlight struggled to filter through the skeletal trees.

Riley adjusted his coat and shotgun on his back, then shoved his hands in his pockets to protect them from the cold and walked forward. His every step was patient. He didn’t need to rush.

He knew exactly how this would end.