Isaac

I groaned, my face pressed against the sticky floor. Blinking against the light, it took a moment to piece together where I was.

The Airport.

It felt like I’d been out longer, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. People ran around me as the fire alarm blared. A stabbing ring buzzed through my skull. My fingers brushed my ears and came away slick with blood. The bitter, metallic scent hit the back of my throat, making me gag.

Then I looked down at my left arm and saw the marks of the chains, burned into my skin, seared where Chronos had held me down.

It wasn’t a dream.

Bracing my other hand against the tiled floor, I forced myself to sit up, even as my body begged to shut down. My phone lay just ahead, but even that short distance felt impossible. Stifling a groan, I stretched out and grabbed it.

The screen was shattered, but at least it still worked. But my heart clenched as the phone lit up, showing a photo of me, Will, and Josh. Will’s painted tiger face grinned back at me from just a few months ago. That damn Easter egg hunt… how he made sure we all looked ridiculous, pulling us into face paint—me as a bunny, Josh as a leopard.

I wiped my eyes with my arm, but the pain from the burns shot up, and I recoiled. I pocketed the phone and pushed myself to stand, though my knees buckled, threatening to give out.

Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I gripped the chair to steady myself, adjusted the backpack on my shoulders, and forced myself forward, heading for the parking lot. The only thought in my head was getting home for a final goodbye to Josh.

I hadn’t expected him to come with me. Hell, I didn’t want him to. This trip was a death sentence, and I couldn’t drag him away from his family.

Not for this.

Not after all the time we’d been apart. Driving to California? That’s at least three days straight, non-stop. And I wasn’t a machine, definitely not a god. It would take five days, maybe more. But I had to get there before the seventh day—before it was too late.

That kid was messing with my head. Who even was he? How do you fight a god? Gods don’t even exist anymore.

When I finally reached the parking lot, cars had crashed into each other, just like I’d expected. Typical Pennsylvania drivers. The DMV hands out licenses like candy.

Slinging my backpack to the front, I fumbled for my keys and unlocked the SUV. Sliding inside, I quickly shut the door and sank into the driver’s seat with a shaky breath. My fingers gripped the steering wheel, trying to anchor myself. My vision was still swimming, my heart slamming against my ribs; each beat sent a fresh stab of pain through my temples.

Still, inside the cocoon of the car, the screaming alarms faded to a muffled whine, giving me a moment to breathe, to think—if thinking was even possible at this point.

***

The drive home should’ve taken 45 minutes, maybe less on a good day. But today wasn’t just bad—it was unbearable. It took nearly two hours to crawl through the mess of cars and emergency vehicles. The highways were clogged with people desperate to escape the city.

The radio stations were all static, and emergency broadcasts repeated the same useless instructions: “Martial law will be implemented in the following 24 hours. Follow government guidelines.”

Guidelines? There were no guidelines or instructions for when a god decided to bring the apocalypse.

I tried to stay focused, but my eyes kept flicking to the clock on the dashboard, watching the minutes bleed away.

If I couldn’t make it back in time, how could I make it to California? If I didn’t make it, Will—. The thought alone was torture, and by the time I parked at the apartment, my nerves were shot.

“Oh no, don’t even think about it.” That was the only thing that came out of my mouth when I opened the apartment door—our home. Deep down, I knew Josh would pull something like this.

Bags were already packed, and as I stepped inside, he was dropping what seemed to be the last one onto the living room floor. Of course, he’d changed into his usual jeans, the ones that showed off every damn contour of his legs.

Combat boots, navy shirt.

Ready to go.

Josh frowned, his expression hardening the second he saw the dried blood on my neck and clothes. My white pullover—perfect for summer, for travel—was ruined, stained all over.

He crossed the living room in a few quick strides, stopping inches from me. His eyes swept over my face like he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing.

Josh cradled my jaw in his hands, turning my head gently from side to side, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against my skin. His touch was firm but careful, sending heat crawling up my neck, even though I knew he was only checking for injuries.

“Are you hurt? Did you crash the car? What happened?” His words came quickly, searching for an explanation as his eyes softened, darting back to mine. His focus shifted to the bloodstains covering my shirt, and his hands hesitated, thumb brushing my chin—so light I wasn’t sure if it was intentional. Josh’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything at first. He stared at me like I was someone he didn’t know how to touch.

His hand moved up, grazing my cheek. Closing my eyes, my lashes brushed his fingers, pretending it was exhaustion because it was easier than admitting the truth—I couldn’t bear to see what might not be there when I opened them again.

The tears came back—no, they never really stopped, but I forced them down. Never had I cried this much, not even when my parents died. Not even when my sister passed. There was never time to mourn.

“Josh,” I whispered, barely managing to keep my emotions in check. “I’m going to find Will. I have to, even if it’s the last thing I do. Go with your family. It’s what you should do.”

Who was I kidding? I wanted him with me. I wanted him with me. I wanted him to say he wouldn’t let me do this alone.

But that was selfish.

Ignorant, even.

That was my problem—needing him like that when he didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t fair to either of us. I’d spent too long leaning on a dream that was never real. Sure, we’d drifted apart over the years, but now we were back, and for him, things were the same.

But it wasn’t the same for me.

Josh shook his head. “Not a chance,” he said, not breaking his gaze. He dragged over his face like he was wiping away the weight of what he needed to say.

“They came here,” he admitted, his tone shifting, more serious now. “I said goodbye. Didn’t need to say much—they knew. They understood.” He sighed, squaring his shoulders as if bracing himself for the next part. “Look, I’m not letting you do this alone. Will… he’s my family too. Six months or six years, doesn’t matter. I love him, Isaac. And I know you do too. So yeah, if this is the end of the world… we go together.”

Ah, there it was—Josh, always the savior. Breaking down the very walls he’d built between us without even realizing it. No good for my heart, which was already a mess. He was making me live in some twisted movie where maybe, just maybe, he’d loved me the same way I’d loved him all along.

He always knew what to say, what to do, and somehow, it never occurred to him that maybe I didn’t want saving. Not this time. I didn’t need him swooping in again, fixing everything, pretending he could shoulder all the weight I’d been carrying alone for years.

I broke the gaze between us, dropping my eyes to the floor. “No,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly and reaching up, gently pushing his hands away from my face. As I pushed them down, I took a step back, still feeling the lingering touch, like neither of us wanted to let go completely. “I’m sorry, Josh, but this time… it’s a no.”

When I looked back at him, I forced a smile—one that says it’s enough, that it’s goodbye. Six months of mixed signals, but not a day more. This was the end. The end of losing people, the end of unrequited love. The end of thinking there might be something between us.

Letting go of his hands completely, I watched confusion cloud his expression. It was like a million thoughts raced through his mind, but none made it into words.

“Please excuse me,” I said, slipping past him. “I need to pack.” But Josh’s hand shot out, grabbing my left wrist. Pain flared, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to react.

His brows knitted together as he saw me wince. “What’s that?” He carefully took my arm and pulled up the sleeve. “These are burns… but why do they look like… chains?”

I yanked my arm away. “It’s nothing,” I said, turning to leave.

“How is that nothing? Those are second-degree burns, Isaac. They can get infected. We need to go to the hospital.”

“No,” I said firmly. “Please, just let me pack.” I moved to walk past him, but Josh stepped in front of me, blocking my path. Anger flared, hotter than the burns. “Move,” I snapped.

Josh held his ground. “Who the hell did that? What happened?” The questions spilled out, each more urgent than the last. “Please, I just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help. Move!”

“Don’t brush this off, Isaac!

Desperation crawled into me, but something else was happening. The clock on the wall seemed to skip a beat. It was fast, so quick I might’ve imagined it, but the jolt in my chest told me something was wrong. I glanced at the clock again, but it was still, ticking forward like nothing had happened. Was it just me?

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit me, different from the one at the airport. This one came from deep inside, like my gut was twisting, spreading an unfamiliar heat through every nerve.

Josh’s expression shifted from concern to alarm as I swayed. “Isaac, are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer, hand reaching for me again.

“No! Don’t fucking touch me,” I shouted, stumbling back.

And then, it happened again.

The edges of the room blurred for a second, like a smudge on a camera lens. I blinked, shaking my head. Everything around me… glitched. Like something out of The Matrix. But when I looked again, everything seemed too crisp, as though the world had been tuned a bit too much. Objects around me began to move in reverse. The floor wrinkled beneath my feet, and the walls distorted like they would fall into pieces at any moment.