Devin sprawled across the cold stone floor, his body broken in more places than he could name. His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, each breath scraping against bruised ribs like knives. His ears still rang with the screams of his fallen comrades, and his vision bled at the edges, shifting in and out of black haze. He told himself he was still alive, but the weight in his limbs argued otherwise.
And then, footsteps.
Not hurried, not careless. They came one at a time, measured, deliberate, the rhythm of someone who already owned the space they walked in. Each step seemed to ripple through the ground, sending little shocks up Devin's spine.
He forced his head to turn, dragging his gaze toward the sound. Against all reason, a fragile thread of hope tugged inside his chest.
"Erin…?" The word tore out of his cracked lips like sandpaper.
