JD watched him calmly. “I told you it wouldn’t take long.”
Peter tried to lift his hand to touch his face, but his arm only lifted halfway before dropping heavily back onto the table. His breathing grew louder now, harsh and uneven. Fear filled his eyes completely.
“You, you said retirement…” he slurred, struggling to form the words.
JD nodded. “Yeah, you’re retiring. Permanently.”
Peter’s head began to tilt forward slightly, his neck no longer holding steady. His eyes darted around the room. At Moose, at Bear, at Swampy, at Tex. No man looked away.
Peter tried to speak again but this time only a broken sound came out. His chest rose sharply, panic flooding his features as he realized he was losing control of his own body.
“No…” he whispered, his voice barely audible now.
JD poured another round, sliding the glasses across the table. “Drink up, boys,” he said calmly. “It’s going to be a long night.”
They picked up their glasses one by one.
Peter tried to move again, but nothing happened. His fingers twitched weakly against the table, then stilled. Terror filled his eyes.
Gods leaned forward, placing a steady hand on Peter’s shoulder as his body slumped further into the chair.
“Easy,” Gods murmured quietly. “It’s done now.”
Peter’s breathing slowed, shallow and uneven. His eyes still moved, darting from face to face, begging us to do something, but no one spoke, and no one moved to help him.
One by one, we raised our glasses. Rowan lifted hers too, her hand trembling, and together we all drank.
And across the table, Peter sat frozen in his chair. His eyes wide, body failing, still conscious enough to understand exactly what the rest of his life was going to look like.
