Chapter 25: Rowan Carter
Chapter 25: The Storm is Watching
(Rowan's POV)
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Dinner was simple—whatever supplies Ava and Mia had managed to put together. Canned soup, stale crackers, and some protein bars. None of us cared. Food was food.
I sat at the edge of the group, eating in silence while everyone talked.
But my mind was elsewhere.
On the storm.
On the people still out there.
And on the feeling in my gut that something was very, very wrong.
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"How many people do you think are still alive?" Ava asked suddenly.
The conversation around us paused.
Oliver sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "No way to know for sure."
"We've barely seen anyone," Mia murmured. "Even before we went out looking."
Sienna shifted beside me, her fingers toying with the hem of her sleeve. "Somebody has to be out there," she said quietly. "Right?"
Caleb exhaled sharply. "We've been lucky."
"Lucky?" Sienna repeated, brows furrowing. "How is any of this lucky?"
Caleb shook his head. "Because we're still breathing."
Silence.
He wasn't wrong.
We'd seen entire buildings wiped out.
Cars overturned.
Signs of struggle—but no people.
Just…emptiness.
That was the worst part.
Not knowing.
---
I glanced at Sienna.
She was sitting too close to Caleb again.
Or maybe he was sitting too close to her.
Didn't matter. It pissed me off either way.
I turned back to my food, stabbing my fork into a piece of stale bread.
Caleb noticed.
Of course, he did.
"You got something to say?" he muttered.
I smirked. "Nope."
He scoffed. "Right."
Sienna shot me a look, eyes sharp. "Not now, Rowan."
I raised a brow. "I didn't say anything, Sunshine."
Her jaw clenched.
Caleb muttered something under his breath, shaking his head.
I could hear the storm picking up outside.
Wind howling.
Rain hammering against the walls.
Like a warning.
---
The Storm Isn't Normal Anymore
A sudden boom rattled the building.
Everyone froze.
Ava grabbed Mia's arm.
Sienna's head snapped up.
I set my plate down, standing slowly.
That wasn't thunder.
That was something hitting the building.
Hard.
Caleb stood too. "What the hell was that?"
Oliver moved toward the window, pushing aside the tarp. His face paled.
"Shit," he whispered.
We all turned.
Outside, the wind was twisting.
Not just moving.
Not just blowing.
Twisting.
Like something alive.
The rain slammed sideways against the pavement. The wind howled, shaking the gas station so hard the shelves trembled.
The sky was pitch black.
No lightning.
No stars.
Just a void.
And the feeling in my gut?
That creeping, clawing dread?
It wasn't going away.
It was getting worse.
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