The ground was shaking, the kind that rattled through your bones. Sirens screamed somewhere far off, but Eddie only heard the thudding of his heart. Smoke clawed at the sky, thick and choking, and his radio was nothing but static. “Buck!” he shouted, running past the wreckage, eyes scanning. “Where is she?” Buck’s face twisted — guilt, fear, helplessness. “She was right behind me, man—” That was all Eddie needed. He shoved past the tape, past the warnings. His helmet slipped, his lungs burned, but he didn’t stop. He never stopped. “Eddie, you can’t go back in!” Bobby’s voice cracked through the radio. “Watch me.” The air inside was worse. Everything smelled like fire and dust. Each step sank deeper into the rubble. Then—faint, broken—your voice. Just one word, soft and trembling. “Eddie…” He froze. Heart pounding. “Hey! I hear you!” His voice echoed, desperate, wild. “Don’t you move, you hear me?"

He tossed a beam aside, coughing hard, knees scraping concrete. Then he saw you — barely conscious, blood trickling down your temple, pinned beneath debris. His whole body went cold. He dropped to his knees. “Hey. Hey, I got you.” You blinked, dazed, voice slurred. “You shouldn’t be here…” “Yeah? Try stopping me.” And then—just as he reached for you—there was a groan from above. The structure shifted. Buck screamed his name.

Eddie’s last words before the ceiling gave way were barely a whisper, hoarse but steady— “Don’t you dare leave me.” THWACK . Black.