Sleep came tangled.

Pillows and blankets were piled into a loose nest against the curve of the cave wall, fabric and limbs layered together until it was hard to tell where one body ended and another began. Someone’s arm was heavy across your waist. Someone else’s knee was hooked lazily over your thigh. Warmth everywhere — steady, unnatural heartbeats thrumming softly around you like a low hum.

They slept differently than you did.

Too still. Too quiet.

David was stretched out behind you, breath slow and even, one hand resting possessively at your hip. Dwayne lay close on your other side, shoulder broad and solid, his chin tipped down like he’d fallen asleep mid-watch. Paul was half-sprawled near your feet, one arm thrown over a pillow. Marko was somewhere close enough that you could feel the heat of him through the blankets.

For a while, you didn’t move. Then you heard it. Not the ocean. Not the drip of water echoing through stone. Footsteps.

Your eyes opened slowly, heart ticking up as you listened. The boys didn’t stir — their bodies heavy, dormant, like nothing short of vi0lence would wake them properly. Carefully, you shifted, easing David’s arm off your waist inch by inch. He murmured something unintelligible but didn’t wake.

You froze for a moment then carefully, you slid free of the nest, bare feet silent against the cool stone. The cave felt different when you stood alone — bigger. Hollow. Every shadow deeper without them around you.

The sound came again. Voices this time. Low. Excited. Too human.

“…told you this was the place.”

“…can’t believe we found it.”

Your stomach dropped. You edged closer to the cave’s mouth, heart pounding as the voices grew clearer. The morning air carried them straight in.

“Stake, holy water — check.” “It’s morning so they’ll be asleep, this’ll be easy.”

The Frog Brothers.

Your breath caught. They were close. Closer than you liked. Close enough that if they came in now—

You turned sharply, panic flooding your chest as you looked back toward the nest. The boys were still exactly where you’d left them, sprawled and vulnerable in their unnatural sleep, unaware of the danger moving straight toward them.

You swallowed hard.

You have to wake them up.

You broke into a run back toward the blankets — back toward the warmth, the teeth, the monsters who were yours — knowing you only had seconds before the hunters crossed the threshold.