1
Jason had every intention of going out that Friday night.
Tank had invited him to The Den like always, but something in Jason told him to stay home. He wasn’t a big believer in gut feelings, but tonight, the idea of heading to the bar left a weird, unsettled feeling in his chest.
“Not feeling it tonight, man,” Jason had said over the phone.
Tank had laughed. “Your loss.”
Jason had smirked. “Enjoy getting slobbered on by drunk bears.”
Tank chuckled. “That’s the plan.”
And with that, Jason had stayed in.
But his night? His night turned out to be just as wild as anything Tank was about to experience.
Because his partner, Caleb, had other plans.
2
Caleb was already waiting when Jason stepped out of the shower, leaning in the doorway with that look—the one. The kind of look that meant Jason wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.
Caleb was shorter than Jason, but built solid, thick with muscle. His ginger beard was trimmed close, his broad chest dusted with just enough hair to drive Jason crazy. But it was his eyes that always got Jason—bright, sharp, knowing. Like he could read Jason’s thoughts before he even spoke.
“You sure you didn’t wanna go out?” Caleb asked, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer.
Jason smirked, dragging the towel over his damp hair. “I think I made the right choice.”
Caleb grinned, stepping in, pressing his warm, bare chest against Jason’s. His hands slipped around Jason’s waist, fingers rough from years of lifting, of work.
“You’re tense,” Caleb murmured, lips brushing Jason’s neck.
Jason let out a breath as Caleb’s hands pressed, kneading into the muscle.
“Long week,” Jason muttered.
“I can fix that.”
Jason opened his mouth to respond, but then Caleb bit his shoulder—hard enough to make Jason’s breath hitch, hard enough to send a shiver down his spine.
And just like that, the night turned into a blur of sweat, heat, and tangled limbs.
Caleb knew exactly how to unravel Jason, how to pull him apart piece by piece and put him back together again.
It was fire. It was hunger. It was everything.
And when it was over, Jason collapsed onto the bed, spent, body buzzing with exhaustion.
Caleb curled up beside him, hand resting against Jason’s chest, fingers tracing lazy circles.
“You okay?” Caleb murmured, voice thick with sleep.
Jason nodded. “Yeah. Just… wiped.”
Caleb hummed in satisfaction, pressing a kiss to Jason’s jaw before settling in.
Jason let himself drift.
The room was warm, safe.
Everything was good.
Until the dreams started.
3
Jason didn’t realize he was dreaming at first.
The bedroom was the same—the sheets, the faint scent of sweat and sex, the weight of Caleb’s arm over his stomach.
But something felt off.
He turned his head.
Caleb was gone.
Jason sat up.
The air in the room was thick, like the heat had been cranked up too high. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed… deeper.
A sound echoed through the space—a slow, wet, dripping noise.
Jason turned toward the door.
It was open.
Beyond it—darkness.
Something moved in that darkness.
A shape.
Tank?
Jason swung his legs over the bed, standing. “Tank?”
No response.
He stepped forward, but the closer he got to the doorway, the heavier his limbs felt.
Like the air itself was weighing him down.
And then—
A figure stepped out of the darkness.
At first, Jason thought it was Tank. The size was right. The broad shoulders, the heavy frame.
But then he saw the horns.
Two thick, ridged horns curled up from Tank’s skull, twisting backward like a ram’s. His skin was flushed darker, almost bruised, his veins pulsing with something that glowed beneath the surface. His beard was fuller, thicker, but his eyes—
His eyes were black.
Completely.
No whites. No pupils.
Just void.
Jason’s breath caught in his throat.
“Tank?” he whispered.
The thing that looked like Tank tilted its head, the way a predator studies prey.
Then it grinned.
Its teeth were too sharp.
Jason’s stomach twisted.
“You should have come out tonight,” the thing said.
Its voice was wrong. Deep, layered, like there was something else speaking with it.
Jason took a step back.
The air behind him shifted.
And suddenly, he wasn’t in his bedroom anymore.
4
The floor beneath him was wet.
Jason looked down.
Blood.
He was standing in inches of it. The surface rippled, thick and dark, stretching out endlessly into blackness.
And Tank—
No, not Tank.
The thing in front of him only looked like Tank.
It stepped forward, the blood barely making a sound beneath its feet.
Jason’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“I should wake up now,” he said, voice shaking.
The creature chuckled.
“Wake up?” it repeated.
Then—
It lunged.
Jason tried to run, but his body wouldn’t move fast enough.
The thing slammed into him, knocking him back into the endless pool of blood.
Jason hit the surface hard—
And sank.
The last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him—
Was Tank’s face.
Twisted into something unholy.
5
Jason gasped awake.
His body jerked so violently that he nearly knocked Caleb off the bed.
Caleb startled, sitting up instantly. “Jason?”
Jason was shaking. His heart was racing, his skin cold despite the heat of the room.
Caleb touched his face. “Hey, hey—breathe. What happened?”
Jason’s mouth was dry. His entire body felt wrong, like something had touched him in his sleep.
He looked at Caleb, wide-eyed.
“Something’s happening to Tank.”
Caleb frowned. “Tank?”
Jason swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe.
“It wasn’t a dream,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Something’s wrong.”
He turned, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.
Tank hadn’t texted.
Hadn’t called.
And Jason had the horrible, gut-wrenching feeling—
That by the time he did?
It would already be too late.
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