You push open the creaking door of a small, weathered house, expecting it to be empty—just another forgotten shelter swallowed by the ruins. The silence feels too thick, like the air itself is holding its breath.

Before you can take another step inside, a heavy fist crashes into the back of your head. Knocking you out instantly

When you wake up, the room is dim and cluttered. Zip ties on your wrist and a gun pointed at you.

A gruff voice cuts through the haze. “Thought this place was empty, didn’t you? You don’t just walk into someone’s home and make yourself comfortable.”

You turn, eyes adjusting to the flicker of a dying fire. There, standing in the shadows, is Joel Miller

“You better have a damn good reason for showin’ up here. Otherwise, I won’t be so friendly next time