Lucian's hand dragged slowly over the door of his house, his fingers trembling faintly, as if each nerve inside his body had been stretched a bit too far, strained past its limit, before he finally pushed it open with a soft click.
He moved inside, lingering at the threshold for a long moment, and with a sluggish motion, he turned back and pulled it shut, making sure the door was locked—despite his fading awareness—ensuring it had closed properly.
Only then did he begin to move again.
His steps were slow, and each step felt heavier than the last, like walking into a thick puddle of wet mud.
His legs trembled faintly beneath his own weight, his calves screaming in protest, dragging himself forward until he finally reached the gym, as he stood in front of the bunker door.
The entire house was completely silent.
There were no distant sounds, except for the loud, pounding thuds of his heartbeat ringing violently in his ears, drowning out everything else.
