2

Dahl said nothing as he guzzled down the next bottle of water, draining it in seconds.

Chrysan glanced at Kelly, who only shrugged in response. They continued sitting around, chatting and laughing, but Dahl seemed increasingly uncomfortable the longer he stayed.

Something about him wasn’t right.

His eyes looked more sunken now, and there was a strange tightness to his face. Chrysan could’ve sworn that when he first arrived, the short ras that lay flat across his forehead had been standing upright. Now they looked limp, almost lifeless.

And the way he kept drinking—bottle after bottle—wasn’t just thirst. It was desperation.

By the time he reached for his fifth, Chrysan silently mouthed to Kelly, “Is he okay?”

Kelly gave another helpless shrug, mouthing back, “I don’t know.”

Dahl wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his fingers trembling slightly. The fifth bottle stood empty on the table beside him, and still, he looked parched—sweat beginning to bead along his brow despite the air conditioning humming steadily in the background.

Kelly’s smile faded. “Hey… are you okay? You’re not looking too good.”

Dahl blinked slowly, like it took him a second to process her words. Then he gave a weak smile, the corners of his mouth twitching unnaturally.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Just... not feeling my best. Maybe I should go.”

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Kelly’s cheek. His lips felt oddly cool. “Thanks for everything.”

Kelly stood with him as he moved toward the door, but his steps were sluggish. Unsteady. He took one more step and then swayed—his legs buckling beneath him.

“Dahl—!” Kelly gasped, reaching to steady him, but he was too heavy, his body collapsing like a tree felled without warning.

They both went down.

Kelly cried out as they hit the floor, his weight dragging her awkwardly beneath him. “Dahl? Dahl!”

Chrysan was off the couch in a second, heart racing as she knelt beside them. Dahl was sprawled on the floor, his breathing shallow and ragged, his skin an eerie grayish tone.

“Help me turn him!” Chrysan urged, gripping under his arm.

Together, they managed to roll him onto his back. His eyes were fluttering, and for a terrifying moment, they looked… vacant. The ras on his head, limp before, now seemed to writhe faintly like they were responding to something unseen.

“Oh my God,” Kelly whispered, tears springing to her eyes. “What’s happening to him?”

Chrysan stared down at Dahl’s face, her own breath caught in her throat. Whatever this was—it wasn’t just dehydration.

Before either of them could speak again, a loud knock thundered at the door—followed immediately by the sound of it splintering open.

The girls screamed as the door burst inward, crashing against the wall. Four massive men swept into the room like a wave—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with precise and deliberate force. They were dressed in dark clothing, their eyes scanning every corner of the apartment with sharp, calculated intent.

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