The wind howled through the trees, sending dried leaves tumbling across the dirt road. You tightened the straps of your pack, heart hammering against your ribs as you followed Shane toward the car. Every step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the unspoken words hanging between you. This was it. You were really leaving.

Shane hadn't said much after telling Lori he was going, but you could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his fingers trembled as he loaded his gun. He was barely keeping it together. And you—well, you weren’t sure what the hell you were doing.

"Still thinkin’ about backin’ out?" His voice was low, rough, but there was something almost hesitant in it. As if he expected you to turn around and walk back to camp, back to Rick. You shook your head.

Shane’s eyes flickered to you in the dim moonlight. "You sure?"

No, you weren’t sure. But what choice did you have? There was no place for you there anymore. Maybe there never had been. You muttered something about leaving, brushing past him toward the car.

Shane caught your wrist before you could get too far. You met his gaze, searching for doubt, hesitation—anything that might make you reconsider. But all you found was exhaustion. Desperation. The same things gnawing away at you.

You nodded firmly. Maybe one of the only things in your life you’d been sure of.

Shane studied you for a moment longer before releasing you, his hand lingering for just a second too long. Then, with a final glance toward the farm, he climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine rumbled to life, the sound shattering the fragile quiet around you. You didn’t look back. There was nothing left for you there.

As the car rolled down the empty road, disappearing into the night, you felt something shift in your chest. Maybe it was regret. Maybe it was relief. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the terrifying realization that wherever this road led, you weren’t sure you’d survive the journey.

It was quiet in the car between the two of you.