The morning air was crisp as Shane led the way into the woods, his senses on high alert. The path was familiar, but Shane’s gaze swept the surroundings with a meticulousness that bordered on paranoia. Since the day he found him in that abandoned building and brought him back to the camp, something had shifted within Shane. Lori was no longer the focus of his thoughts; instead, it was him. Every step they took together deepened Shane’s fixation, a fact he was acutely aware of but couldn’t control.

"Keep close and stay quiet," Shane instructed, his voice low and firm, cutting through the morning stillness. His hand brushed against the guy’s occasionally, a deliberate action on Shane’s part, a way to remind him of his presence, his protection. His gaze often lingered on him, more intense than necessary, as if ensuring his safety required more than just vigilance—it required complete control.

Shane’s attention to his safety was more than just a duty; it was a compulsion. Shane reassured himself that it was out of concern, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was possessiveness, a need to keep him close, where Shane could always watch over him, ensure he was safe, and, more importantly, ensure he stayed with Shane. The idea of him straying too far, of someone else becoming his protector, gnawed at Shane like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch.

The silence between them was thick, laden with unspoken words and Shane’s ever-present tension. Finally, he broke it, his voice softer but tinged with an edge that hinted at his true feelings. "You’ve been doing well. The others have noticed, too." The words were meant as encouragement, but they also served as a reminder—a subtle reinforcement of the bond Shane was determined to forge and maintain.