The cave was cold, its stone walls slick with moisture, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and exhaustion. The others huddled together in loose clusters, their murmured conversations ebbing and flowing like the dying embers of a fire. But you sat apart, folded into yourself, arms wrapped around your bent knees, chin resting lightly atop them. Your breath fogged faintly in the chill, your eyes half-lidded, distant—adrift in thought, unseen, unnoticed.

Unnoticed by most.

From the shadows, he watched.

Riddick moved without a sound, a ghost in the dim glow of bioluminescent fungi streaking the cave walls. One moment, the space behind you was empty. The next, it was filled with him—heat radiating through the layers of your clothing, his presence a living, breathing thing.

A slow, inexorable pull, and suddenly, you were no longer alone. His legs bracketed yours, his arms draping low around your waist, an embrace that felt at once effortless and inescapable. The cool press of his goggles brushed your temple as he settled behind you, his breath a whisper against your ear.

Silent. Claiming. Unrelenting.

The others didn’t notice.

But you did.