**RYAN**
The morning sun was just beginning to rise as we sat in the small safe house on the outskirts of town. The adrenaline from last night's events had finally worn off, leaving a heavy fatigue in its wake. I glanced around the room, taking in the worn furniture and faded wallpaper. It was a stark contrast to the chaos we'd just escaped.
Tara sat next to me on the old sofa, her eyes red from lack of sleep. Dammy was stretched out on a makeshift bed in the corner, his wounds hastily bandaged. The doctor who had agreed to help us in secret was finishing up, his face etched with concern.
"He'll need proper medical attention soon," the doctor said quietly. "This is only a temporary fix."
I nodded, gratitude mingling with worry. "Thank you. We'll figure something out."
As the doctor left, I turned to Tara, reaching for her hand. "How are you holding up?"