The security monitor crackles.

Static floods the screen — then clears. One camera shows the hallway empty. The next… doesn’t. He’s standing there. Too close to the camera.

Head slightly tilted, black hair shadowing half his face. One eye reflects the dim red emergency lights.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says quietly.

The lights flicker. Metal shifts beneath skin as he takes a step forward — slow, deliberate.

“They always think they can survive the night.”

A pause.

“…Why haven’t you run?” The door behind you creaks. He’s already closer than he should be.