(Back at the Hunters' lair)
Dante lay on that bed for Moon knows how long… Time did not pass.
It dragged.
It bled across the walls… sticky… heavy…slow… like dusk stretching itself too thin.
Dante lay absolutely still.
Eyes half open.
Breath shallow.
Heart pacing itself into a muted rhythm.
The hunters' chatter outside continued…muffled… distant… drifting in and out of his consciousness.
Until…one voice faded.
Two dissolved.
Boots scuffed away down long corridors.
A door thudded somewhere far in the facility.
A metallic clang settled like a final exhale.
Silence seeped into the lair… slowly…hesitantly…like a creature testing the ground before revealing itself.
Then nothing.
Stillness.
Just the low hum of fluorescent lights breathing overhead.
Dante waited.
And waited.
And waited more… until even the dust seemed to stop shifting.
Only then did he move.
A fingertip first.
A soft flex of muscle beneath the sheet.
