SATURDAY
The sunlight poured through the tall windows in golden waves, warming the hardwood floors and catching dust motes in its lazy drift. Somewhere in the distance, a blender buzzed. The smell of toast and ocean breeze hung in the air.
Ryan blinked awake.
He groaned, rubbing his eyes, disoriented for a moment. The room was too quiet. Too bright. Definitely too late in the day.
Noon…God dammit everyone's already up.
He dragged himself out of bed, still half in a fog. Last night clung to his mind like something sticky and cold. That sound outside the mansion. The flickering camera. That thing in the woods...
He shook it off.
Voices echoed from downstairs—the easy hum of conversation, clinking cups, someone laughing hard at something stupid. Ryan descended the wide staircase barefoot, his hair a mess and his shirt twisted from sleep.
As soon as he turned into the main room, a blur leapt out from behind the couch.
"BOO!"
"Tasha—!"
Ryan flinched back as Tasha cackled and stumbled away, nearly knocking over a decorative vase.
"You're way too easy," she said, pointing a finger at him. "Detective Reflexes, my ass."
"Jesus," he muttered, heart racing.
The others laughed from around the room—Derrick, sprawled in a hanging chair with a smoothie in hand—probably with more alcohol in it, Luke digging into a breakfast burrito on a beanbag, Emily curled up with a book on a massive cushioned window seat.
"Well, well, Sleeping Beauty has risen," Derrick called, raising his cup in salute. "We were starting to think you died in your sleep."
Ryan forced a smirk. "That how you treat your guests? Scaring them and mocking their sleeping habits?"
"Only the ones who sleep through breakfast and lunch."
Tasha tossed him a banana from across the room. "Eat up, champ. You're gonna need your strength. We're hiking to the cliffs later."
Ryan caught the banana awkwardly. "Can't wait."
Luke grinned. "What kept you in bed so long? Island got you dreaming sweet, or were you just too lazy to move?"
Ryan froze for half a second.
"Just a little extra tired…"
The question wasn't anything serious. Just a throwaway comment. But it hit too close.
His smile faltered just a little.
"I need to talk to Derrick," he said suddenly.
The room quieted slightly—still playful, but now curious.
Derrick raised a brow. "Did I forget to restock the minibar or something?"
"Just a quick thing," Ryan muttered, already heading for the hallway off the main room. "Two minutes."
Derrick followed, still sipping his smoothie. "Man's all business," he said over his shoulder. "Probably gonna arrest me for crimes against brunch."
They stepped into a smaller room near the back—a sleek office with wall-to-wall windows and a ridiculous ocean view. The hum of conversation faded behind the thick door.
Ryan turned, wearing a serious expression now.
"Camera 4's dead."
Derrick blinked. "Huh?"
"The camera facing the ruins," Ryan clarified. "Last night, I checked the system. Three feeds were clear. One was just static. You said you had surveillance all around the house. So why's one of them out? And I saw something outside when I went to check. Looked like a monkey but it was too dark to tell…and it was too big to be a monkey…"
Derrick sighed and walked toward the desk, setting his drink down.
"Dude. Come on. The electrical here's a mess. You know how old half this place is? Some of it's built on Cold War-era infrastructure. Some wires were already frayed when I bought the property. One camera cutting out? Not exactly end-of-the-world stuff. And maybe that fat monkey of yours messed with the camera. No biggie."
Ryan didn't move. "That one camera just happens to be pointed at the creepiest part of the island?"
Derrick held up his hands. "Just a coincidence. You're not in the city anymore, Keller. No gangs, no dealers—just nature and busted wiring."
Ryan stared at him, but said nothing. The quiet stretched.
Derrick gave him a look. "You okay, man?"
Ryan finally nodded. "Yeah. Just… tired."
Derrick clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Then do what the rest of us are doing. Chill. Seriously, the only thing haunting this island is the ghost of bad decisions."
Ryan offered a tight smile. "Right."
They returned to the main room.
The vibe hadn't changed—still easy, still warm. Emily looked up as Ryan re-entered, her eyes narrowing just slightly. She saw something—tension, maybe. Or weariness. But she said nothing.
Tasha tossed him a pillow as he passed.
"No more naps," she warned. "Or next time, I'm dumping ice water."
Luke replies before Ryan could, "Man that sounds nice. It's hot as hell outside. It's like the island is trying to make chicken wings out of us."
Ryan chuckled and sank into a seat near the edge of the group, slipping the mask back on. Smiling, laughing. Playing along.
But inside, he was still staring at the static screen Derrick brushed off too quickly.
Derrick stands up and claps his hands together, "Welp, guys, I hope you're ready for some mountain fun! Get to your rooms and get ready!"
Everyone gets up and goes to their rooms to get changed but Ryan lingers for a moment too long and Derrick gives him a confused look, "Dude you sure you're okay? Starting to freak me out a little with this whole thing you got going on."
"I'm good…just some lack of sleep. I'll be fine."
But deep down Ryan knows he's not fine…something is definitely wrong with this place and he's gonna find out what.
Ryan begins to walk upstairs to his room
But something was off. The 4th camera is back online but something is different…there's more vegetation than before. Vines covering the ruins and bushes practically choking the campfire area. It's like someone moved that stuff. Like someone is hiding something.
Definitely gonna have to check that out later…
Ryan moves on to his room to prepare for his hike-soon-to-be-investigation. Although Ryan doesn't wanna let anyone get suspicious of him.
The front of the mansion opened into a wide stone-paved courtyard framed by palm trees and tall hedges. The sun was blazing now, casting hard shadows across the driveway.
Derrick swung open the double doors and stepped out like he was about to film a commercial.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he called, spinning on his heel. "I present to you—our glorious chariots!"
Three matte-black off-road jeeps sat parked under a canvas awning, each outfitted with oversized tires, light bars, and open frames. They looked like safari rides crossed with military transports.
Tasha whistled. "Okay, Jurassic Park."
"You're not wrong," Derrick said. "Bought 'em from a movie prop rental company. Real engines, fake dents. These babies can get us anywhere on the island that doesn't involve falling off a cliff."
Luke climbed into the back of one. "Do they have cupholders?"
"Only the essentials," Derrick replied.
Ryan stayed near the back of the group, squinting at the treeline just beyond the jeeps. It was thicker than he remembered from yesterday. Denser. Wild.
Something about it made his skin crawl.
Emily appeared beside him, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail.
"You okay?" she asked quietly, just for him.
Ryan didn't answer right away. He nodded after a moment.
"Yeah. Just thinking about where we're going."
"Not excited for the cardio?"
He gave a half-smile. "Something like that."
Derrick clapped his hands together and hopped into the lead jeep.
"Everyone buckle up! No refunds if we flip over. Let's roll!"
The engines growled to life, and the convoy began to move.
The rumble of engines echoed through the trees as three off-road jeeps barreled up a dirt trail carved through the jungle. Derrick was behind the wheel of the lead vehicle, sunglasses on, grinning like he was in a commercial.
Ryan sat in the passenger seat, eyes scanning the dense forest outside the window. The further they drove, the thicker it became.
Too thick.
The trail ahead barely held shape, and on both sides, the greenery pressed close. Trees leaned over the path like they were watching. Branches twisted together. Thick, uncut vines dangled like nooses.
And beyond that? Nothing. No movement. No glimpses of wildlife. Not even birdsong.
Just a solid, unmoving wall of green.
Derrick cranked the volume on the jeep's Bluetooth speaker. Some upbeat rock track thumped through the speakers as if trying to overpower the silence beyond.
"Trail's a little gnarly up ahead," he shouted over the music. "But it leads to the most insane lookout spot. You're gonna love it."
Ryan nodded absently, but his eyes stayed fixed on the trees. He tried to peer between them. No clearings. No paths. If anything—or anyone—were out there, they could be just ten feet in and he'd never know.
And they'd see him.
"Jungle looks… overgrown," he said aloud.
Derrick shrugged. "We don't trim up this way much. It's mostly decorative when guests come up—y'know, the whole 'untamed island vibe'."
"Right," Ryan muttered. His fingers tapped nervously on the armrest.
Behind them, the other two jeeps bounced over the terrain. Tasha whooped loudly from the back seat of the third, raising her arms like it was a rollercoaster. Emily, seated near Luke, met Ryan's gaze through the side mirror—just briefly—but her expression shifted.
She noticed. Again.
She didn't wave. Didn't smile.
Just watched him.
Hell yes — this is prime escalation. You've got:
Beauty vs. paranoia (cinematic cliff vs. inner tension)
Isolation without being totally alone (Ryan sneaking off)
Building the Ryan–Emily bond through conflict, not just comfort
The first real glimpse of a figure that shouldn't be there
And Emily lowkey being the only one with the instinct to follow the truth
Here's a full draft of that scene to keep your flow alive:
---
Cliffside — Midday
The jeeps finally rumbled to a halt at the end of the trail, tires crunching over loose gravel. Before them, the jungle thinned out—cut away to reveal a panoramic cliffside view that could've been ripped from a luxury travel magazine.
Waves crashed far below against jagged black rocks. The sea stretched endlessly to the horizon, a glittering sheet of blues and silvers. Birds soared overhead, riding lazy thermals. Palm trees framed the scene like stage curtains.
Tasha whistled. "Okay… damn. Didn't think this trip would make me believe in God again."
Derrick hopped out of the lead jeep with a grin. "Told you it was worth it. Best view on the island. Hell, I almost built the house up here instead—but the wifi sucks."
Luke was already climbing onto a boulder, spreading his arms Titanic-style. "This place is insane!"
Everyone scattered—phones out, selfies taken, laughter echoing against the cliff wall. It felt cinematic, unreal. Like the kind of moment people lived for.
Except Ryan.
He barely looked at the view.
Something was tugging at him.
A trail. Faint. Half-swallowed by vines and leaves, just to the right of the overlook. No marker. No footprints. Like it didn't want to be found.
He checked over his shoulder. Everyone was distracted—posing, joking, climbing, exploring the edges.
Ryan slipped away.
The trail was narrow and uneven, cut more by time than by tools. Branches clawed at his shirt, leaves whispering as he moved deeper. The sounds of his friends faded, replaced by the dense hush of jungle.
Then—movement.
Ahead, between the trees.
A figure. Just a blur. Darting through the foliage, fast. Too fast.
Ryan's heart jumped.
"Hey!" he called, already sprinting after it.
The trail dipped. Curved. Split. He followed the shape through shadows and slanted sunlight, but every time he turned a corner—nothing.
Gone.
He stopped, panting, surrounded by silence.
"Shit…"
"Looking for someone?"
Ryan spun around.
Emily stood behind him. Arms crossed. Breath even. She wasn't winded.
"How—what are you doing here?"
"I followed you," she said, voice calm. "You were acting weird. Again. And you really thought no one would notice?"
Ryan looked away. His jaw tightened.
Emily stepped closer.
"Alright, Keller. Talk. First the camera. Then the midnight stare-down with the jungle. Now you're chasing ghosts in the trees. What the hell is going on?"
He shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
Silence.
Emily didn't move. Her eyes stayed on him—steady, sharp, waiting.
"You're not just spooked," she said. "You're hunted. You've been since we landed. So you either tell me the truth, or I start dragging the others out here one by one until I find it myself."
Ryan exhaled through his nose. Frustrated. Cornered.
"I saw something last night," he said finally. "Something outside the house. And again just now. I don't know what it is, but something is wrong. And the ruins—they were different on the cameras. Covered up. Like someone didn't want them seen."
Emily's expression didn't change. But her silence said enough.
"You think I'm crazy."
"I think you're paranoid," she replied. "I think the city messed you up and you seriously need to get help. Listen I trust you, but not everything is out to get you like in Vegas. Just drop this whole thing and have fun."
She stepped past him, going back to the others.
Ryan followed behind, thinking over everything…
Am I really just being paranoid?
Ryan brushes the question—and everything else—off as he rejoins the group, attempting to enjoy the view.
It is indeed impressive and outlandishly amazing, but Ryan still feels a sense of dread eating away at his insides making it difficult to enjoy the view.