The party had long since burned itself out.
Empty bottles and half-eaten snacks littered the massive coffee table. The Bluetooth speaker was still playing lo-fi beats at a whisper, long after anyone cared to change it. A single ceiling fan spun lazily above, pushing warm air around the high-ceilinged room. Outside, waves brushed gently against the shore.
Everyone else had stumbled off to their rooms hours ago—laughing, slurring, or groaning. A few had crashed wherever they fell. But Ryan and Emily remained.
Ryan sat on the corner of a plush couch, his fingers drumming on a cold can of something he wasn't drinking. Emily curled up on the opposite end, a thin blanket over her legs and a mug of tea warming her hands.
"Quiet," Emily said, softly, "finally."
Ryan chuckled. "I forgot how loud Derrick could get when he's had three drinks and an audience. Such a show-off"
She smiled, leaning her head back against the cushion.
"I almost didn't come, you know," she said after a beat. "The invite sat on my desk for weeks."
Ryan looked over. "Why'd you change your mind?"
She shrugged, eyes still on the ceiling. "Something about it felt like… closure. Or maybe nostalgia. Or maybe I just missed being around people who knew me before."
He nodded.
There was a stretch of silence. Not awkward—just still.
"You always were the quiet one," he said. "The observer."
"And you were the protector. You still are."
He smirked. "You say that like it's a good thing."
Emily turned to look at him. Her eyes were tired, but not dull. Deep, thoughtful.
"It is. It always was."
Ryan looked down at the can in his hand. Then back at her.
"You ever wonder what we'd all be like if we never left?"
"High school forever?" she teased.
"No, I mean… if none of this had happened. If we'd just stayed friends. Kept in touch. Not gotten so… distant."
She didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Yeah. I wonder that a lot."
The music looped in the background. Soft piano. Crackling static.
Ryan leaned back, staring up at the wooden beams in the ceiling.
"This place is beautiful," he said. "But it doesn't feel real. Like… we're guests in something older. Bigger."
Emily tilted her head.
"You felt that too?"
Ryan nodded slowly. He didn't mention the dream. Or the man on the plane. Or the tug in his chest when they passed the ruins.
Not yet.
Emily sipped her tea.
"We should get some sleep," she said gently. "We got a big day tomorrow."
Ryan stood, stretching.
"I'll help clean up in the morning," he said.
She stood too, brushing the blanket from her lap.
For a moment, they just stood there—close, but not touching. Quiet. Comfortable.
"Night, Ryan."
"Night, Em."
She turned and walked toward the hallway, her shadow slipping past the soft glow of a dying lamp.
Ryan watched her go.
And for the first time in a long time, he felt something close to calm.
But outside the glass walls, deep in the forest, something moved in the dark.
Watching.
Waiting.
Outside the glass walls, deep in the forest, something moved in the dark.
Then—a strange sound.
Low. Wet. Like something dragging across stone.
Ryan froze.
It was distant at first, barely audible beneath the hush of the waves and the whir of the fan. But it was there. Wrong. Out of place.
He stepped toward the sliding glass door, squinting into the night.
The patio lights flickered once.
Then again.
Probably just power fluctuations. This island has a shit ton of electrical stuff, something is bound to happen.
But he didn't believe it.
There was a rustling noise beyond the treeline—fast, skittering. Then something heavy thudded against the fence that separated the forest from the yard.
Thud.
Ryan instinctively stepped back and reached for where he keeps his gun holstered when on duty.
Another sound followed.
A distant metallic clang. Like a hatch slamming shut.
He moved to the house's front console, pressed a button to activate the exterior cameras Derrick bragged about earlier. The screen blinked to life—four grainy night-vision feeds.
Three were clear.
But the fourth—camera 4, positioned toward the ruins—was down. Only static.
"Derrick probably just forgot to fix it," Ryan whispered to himself.
But his gut said otherwise.
He slid the door open just a crack and stepped onto the stone patio. The night was still warm, but the air had changed. Cooler. Heavy.
Ryan took a few slow steps forward, scanning the treeline.
Nothing.
Then—
A shape darted through the trees. Too fast. On all fours. Gone before he could get a good look.
He reached for the flashlight mounted on the patio wall and swept the beam across the clearing.
Just jungle. Just shadow.
But something was out there.
Watching. Still waiting.
Ryan stared into the trees for a long time, his heart pounding hard enough to hear in his ears. He wasn't sure how long he stood there before finally stepping back inside and locking the door behind him.
He didn't sleep that night.
And out there, beneath dirt and concrete, something waited–hiding away until it's time for Ryan to find it.