Ethan didn't wake all at once.
At first it was just a shift in his breathing — deeper, uneven, like his body was fighting its way back from somewhere heavy. Then his fingers twitched against the velvet cushion. A low groan slipped from his throat before his eyes finally opened.
The red glow of the club lights hit him hard.
He blinked, confused, trying to piece together where he was and why everything hurt.
Mari was sitting nearby, elbows on her knees, watching him without saying anything. She looked exhausted — eyes rimmed red, jacket stiff with dried blood — but steady.
"You're awake," she said quietly.
He swallowed. His voice came out rough. "Dot?"
She didn't answer right away.
The silence between them stretched thin, fragile. Music still hummed faintly through damaged speakers somewhere overhead, a warped bassline looping like a heartbeat that refused to die. Beyond the tinted windows, shadows moved in slow, crooked paths — reminders that the world hadn't paused just because Ethan had.
Maya stepped in from the side, already checking his pulse. "You lost a lot of blood," she said. "Try not to move too fast."
"Pharmacy," Ethan muttered, pushing himself up anyway.
The second he tried to sit, pain ripped through him. His breath hitched. He clenched his jaw and forced himself upright, one hand gripping the edge of the couch.
Mari reached out automatically, steadying him when his balance slipped.
He swung his legs over the side.
For one stubborn second he stayed upright.
Then his knees folded.
He dropped hard back into the couch cushions, breath shaking.
Maya shook her head. "Yeah. That's not happening tonight."
"I'm going," he said anyway.
Mari met his eyes. "You can't even stand."
"I'll manage."
"No," she said, firmer this time. "You won't."
He pushed a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through every movement. He hated this — hated being stuck while everyone else moved. The helplessness crawled under his skin worse than pain. Outside, something thudded against the glass again, the dull impact vibrating through the poles and velvet seating like a warning.
Dot's face flickered across Mari's thoughts — pale, still, that medical bracelet digging into her skin as they realized what it meant.
Minutes.
That's all Ethan had said she might have.
"We don't have time to argue," Mari said. "I'm going."
His head snapped toward her. "Absolutely not."
Maya spoke before either of them could go further. "If anyone goes, it needs to be someone who knows what to grab. Insulin isn't just one thing. There are different types, doses. I'll go with her."
Several heads turned.
Maya wiped her hands on a towel, already thinking ahead. "And while we're there, we should grab supplies. Pads, tampons, soap, antibiotics — anything we can carry. This place isn't going to run itself."
One of the dancers nodded immediately. "Please. We're already running low on basics."
Ethan exhaled slowly, jaw tight.
He knew she was right.
He just didn't like it.
"I'm not sending her out there alone," he said.
"You're not sending anyone," Mari replied. "We're deciding."
A man near the bar stepped forward — thick build, oil-stained jacket, hands rough like he'd worked with engines most of his life.
"I'll go," he said. "Name's Reggie. Sitting around isn't helping anybody."
Another guy — younger, nervous energy practically vibrating off him — raised a hand. "Luis. I can carry stuff. And honestly, I'd rather be moving than waiting to see what breaks in through those windows."
Vince watched from behind the bar, weighing the room. "Four people," he said slowly. "That's enough to move fast without making too much noise."
Ethan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like he was trying to argue with gravity itself. The red light carved deep shadows under his eyes, making him look older than he had hours ago.
"You shouldn't have to do this," he muttered.
Mari shrugged slightly. "Nobody should be doing any of this."
Outside, something scraped along the glass again. A dancer flinched as a shape dragged past the tinted window, leaving a dark smear that caught the red light. The sound lingered — nails against glass, slow and searching — before fading into the low chorus of distant moans.
Mari's hand drifted briefly to her stomach — a quiet, unconscious motion she didn't even notice.
Justin's face flickered in her memory.
The way he laughed. The way he would've already been halfway to the door before anyone finished asking.
She swallowed hard and forced her focus back to the room.
Ethan finally looked up at her. There was anger in his eyes — but underneath it, worry.
"Just… don't do anything stupid," he said.
She gave him a tired half-smile. "That's kind of the whole situation now."
Maya was already listing things under her breath, pacing slightly. "Glucose tabs, insulin pens, syringes, alcohol wipes… if we find IV kits, grab them. Anything sealed."
Reggie picked up a heavy metal flashlight from the bar. Luis grabbed a duffel bag and started stuffing it with empty containers.
The club shifted around them — people whispering, watching, hoping. Some crossed their arms like they were holding themselves together. Others stared at the door like it might open on its own and swallow them whole.
Ethan leaned back against the couch, clearly fighting the urge to try standing again. His hands curled into fists, then relaxed. The loss of control weighed on him heavier than the injury — a soldier trapped in a body that refused orders.
"You come back," he said quietly.
Mari nodded once.
No big speech.
No promises she couldn't keep.
Just a look that said she understood exactly what was waiting out there.
Vince moved closer. "We'll keep this place locked down," he said. "You get in, get what you need, and get back."
Mari checked the knife at her hip, tightening the strap.
Maya slung a small medical bag over her shoulder.
Reggie tested the weight of the flashlight like he was already planning where to swing it.
Luis adjusted the duffel strap across his chest, trying to look braver than he felt.
The room fell quiet as the four of them stood together near the door.
Even the music seemed to dip lower, like the building itself was holding its breath.
Ethan watched from the couch, silent now, knowing arguing wouldn't change anything. His gaze followed Mari like he was memorizing the shape of her — the way her shoulders squared, the way she didn't hesitate even when fear sat right behind her eyes.
Dot was running out of time.
And whether they liked it or not — this was the only move left.