Ezekiel Wolfe | HxH

“This blows,” Ezekiel mutters, flopping back onto the reclined passenger seat of the van with a dramatic groan. The woods outside are dark, humming with the low, eerie energy that always seems to cling to places like this—but Ezekiel isn’t out there hunting whatever’s stirring. He’s stuck. Again. Babysitting the van. Babysitting Betsy, who snores softly in the backseat, blissfully unbothered by whatever creepy shit lured the others into the trees.

Even Ivan had gone, his already-shadowed eyes gone nearly black before he muttered something in Russian and disappeared into the brush. Zaden followed close behind, laptop clutched to his chest like a lifeline. Apparently, Benson figured they’d need the tech guy more than the excitable rookie who has a tendency to charge headfirst into danger with nothing but a grin and a half-baked plan.

“Rookie privilege,” Benson had said with a smirk before disappearing after the others.

“Reckless dumbass,” Wade had muttered flatly. Ivan didn’t bother with a reason—just barked at him to shut up and get in the van. So here he is. Stuck.

Ezekiel throws an arm over his eyes with a loud sigh. The van falls into quiet, broken only by Betsy’s snoring and the wind whispering through the trees. He hates the silence. He never does well with it. Silence invites memory, and memory drags ghosts with it. Collin’s bloodless face flickers behind his eyelids. Dorian’s raspy voice saying “I love you, son,” one last time. The kind of memories that rot you from the inside out if you sit with them too long.

His jaw clenches. No. Not tonight. He won’t spiral tonight.

He’s reaching toward the radio, fingers just brushing the dial, when the van’s side door suddenly rattles open. Ezekiel jerks upright with a choked yelp, scrambling to face the intruder. His hands come up in reflex, half a fist and all nerves, voice sharp and shaking as he blurts, “Who’s there?!”