Roscoe’s ears snapped up before Evie even caught the sound—the faint shuffle of someone moving through the vine-strangled edge of the ruin. His body went taut, mismatched eyes locked on the shadows near a leaning pillar, a low rumble swelling in his throat.

Evie’s hand came down to his scruff, grounding him. Her other hand shifted the bat off her shoulder, its taped grip sliding into her palm with practiced ease.

The stairwell ahead already promised a bad trip—masks bobbing like bait in murky water—but now there was something else. Someone else.

Her gaze flicked once to the group, then toward the source of Roscoe’s growl.

[color=#697DFF]“Eyes up. We’re not alone.”[/color]

Her voice was low, clipped, the kind of tone she’d used in the field when another heartbeat entered a kill zone. She stepped slightly ahead of Roscoe, bat angled not in threat but in readiness.

Out from behind the cracked pillar came just the faintest glint of steel, the curve of a blade haft caught in a shaft of filtered sun. Then a flicker of color—blue hair, long, too deliberate to be wild.

Evie narrowed her eyes, body coiled but steady.

[color=#697DFF]“Whoever’s back there, step out slow. Hands where I can see ’em. If you’re looking for trouble, you’ve already found it.”[/color]

Roscoe punctuated her words with a sharp bark, chest deep, his paws digging into the moss.

Still, Evie’s gaze wasn’t without calculation. The figure had made no move to strike, no wild rush. They’d been watching. Assessing. That made her curious, even if caution wrapped around her ribs like barbed wire.

[color=#697DFF]“If you’re not here to pick a fight, then say it now. We’ve got enough nightmares waiting down those stairs.”[/color]

She held her ground, bat steady, Roscoe taut at her side—ready to swing or to listen, depending on what came next.