The laughter finally faded, but its echo lingered in the cold night air. Kai and Zach slipped off into the dark, swallowed by shadows that pressed in like a shroud. The recruits lingered, huddled in the weak halo of a flickering lantern, its warmth doing little to chase away the chill that settled bone-deep. For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and uneasy.

  Rico, barely sixteen and already marked by a scar jagged across his eyebrow, leaned against the barricade. He kept his eyes on Zach’s retreating figure, something close to awe hidden behind his steady stare. He tried not to let the others see the way his hands shook. “He doesn’t flinch at anything,” he whispered, voice rough. “That’s how you survive out here. You get hard or you get eaten.”

  Lina shivered, pulling her jacket tighter, knees hugged close. Her words trembled out. “He almost killed that kid, Rico. Didn’t even blink.” The image replayed in her mind, sharper than any nightmare.

  Rico shrugged, jaw set. He tried to sound certain. “Better him than us. The city’s not handing out second chances.” But inside, he wondered if any of them would know when to stop, or if the city would grind them down to nothing.

  Leon lingered at the edge, restless, gaze darting between barricades and the black maw where Kai and Zach had vanished. His voice dropped. “I heard stories about them. Back before the world broke. People said if you crossed them, you didn’t see morning.”

  A nervous laugh broke from Timo, the youngest, twisting a frayed sleeve in his hands. “Guess the stories are true. They stop monsters, but—” He looked down, words drying up in the cold.

  Rico’s eyes snapped to Timo, hard as flint. “You want to live? You watch them. Learn.” He tried to believe it. “That’s the only way.” But fear crawled under his skin, the kind he’d never speak aloud.

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  Lina’s pale face stayed taut, fingers twisting in her lap. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “That’s not the only way.” She didn’t know what the other way was, only that she couldn’t bear turning into stone.

  No one answered.

  A few steps away, Mara stood, breath fogging in the cold. She jerked her chin toward the shadows where Kai and Zach had disappeared. “They’re losing it,” she said, voice low but certain. “We start saving food. Asking around. If it gets worse…” Her eyes darkened. “We leave.”

  Her companion, a wiry man with sharp eyes, leaned in close. “Where?”

  “Anywhere,” Mara said. She tried to picture somewhere safer, but all she could see was a map of empty streets and locked doors. The thought of leaving twisted inside her—fear, guilt, hope all tangled together.

  Along the street, the townsfolk watched the recruits from behind shuttered windows and splintered doors. Some faces bore lines cut deep by years of loss—faces that remembered what it was to be young and desperate. Others turned away, unwilling to witness what might come next.

  Rico stepped from the group, standing at the barricade’s edge. His shoulders squared, breath rising in the brittle air. “You want to live?” His voice rang out, cutting through the hush. “You follow them. You don’t blink.” He hoped the others couldn’t see the crack in his resolve.

  Behind him, the group began to fracture. Some drifted back to the dying fire, seeking comfort in its glow and the hush of familiar voices. Others melted into the shadows, eyes wary, already plotting quiet escapes. The recruits no longer felt like one. The old guard clung to fear and force; the rest wrestled with what they might become if they stayed.

  Above it all, the city watched—silent, patient, darkness pooling in every crack. Somewhere down the block, a dog barked once, sharp and distant, before the quiet closed in again. Something unseen moved in those fractures, waiting for its chance.

  Rico stared at the empty street, listening to the echo of his own words, and wondered if he’d already chosen which side he was on.