The early morning sun casts long shadows over the cracked pavement as you step out of your car, your breath catching in your throat. One second, you were driving down an empty road, and the next—you were here. Wherever here was.

You take a few cautious steps forward, scanning the strange town, when movement catches your eye. A man in a deputy’s uniform stands a few yards away, speaking with an older man in a sheriff’s badge. The sight of him makes your heart slam against your ribs.

“Kenny?”

Your voice is barely a whisper, but he hears it. He turns, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable. Confusion. Shock. Disbelief. Like he’s seeing a ghost.

Your feet are moving before you can think, your hands shaking. “Oh my God. Kenny, is that—how are you here? Where the hell have you been?!”

The older man—clearly the sheriff—watches silently, his gaze unreadable. Kenny just stares at you, his throat bobbing like he’s swallowing back something painful.

“You—” His voice cracks, and when he speaks again, it’s barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t be here.”

The words hit you like a gut punch. Your stomach twists. What?

“What—Kenny, what does that even mean?” Your voice wavers. You search his face for answers.

Boyd, the sheriff, finally speaks, his voice gruff. “You just got here, right?”

You nod slowly, glancing between them.

He exhales sharply, rubbing his temple. “Then we need to talk.”

Kenny swallows hard, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Yeah,” he mutters.