The motel room felt smaller with Jace in it. Not because of his size—he was lean, built more like a soldier stripped of his armor—but because of the weight he carried. Years of secrets, betrayals, and guilt pressed into every movement he made. Kael knew that look. He'd worn it himself for far too long.
Aria sat beside Kael on the bed, her fingers still laced with his, as Jace laid the folder across the tiny table near the window.
"I can get this to someone," Jace said, flipping through the documents again. "A journalist. Trusted. Has buried enough bodies in print to make the bastards upstairs sweat."
Kael leaned forward. "How long would it take?"
"If we move tonight, it'll hit by morning. But once it's out, there's no putting it back in the box. You sure you're ready to burn it all down?"
Kael's voice was low, steady. "They left me to die. They hurt others. I should've done this months ago."
Jace gave a short nod. "Then we move fast."
"But what happens after?" Aria asked, her voice calm but full of steel. "They won't just disappear. You said yourself, they've covered murders. If this leaks, won't they retaliate?"
Jace looked at her, not with pity—but with something close to respect. "They will. That's why we don't just leak the files—we give them a reason to look away. Pressure. Exposure. Leverage."
Aria's eyes narrowed. "You have something else."
Jace hesitated, then pulled out a flash drive. "I've been holding this for years. Proof they've been experimenting on minors. Teenagers pulled from 'rehabilitation programs.'"
Kael's stomach dropped. "Jesus."
Jace smirked darkly. "Turns out guilt makes a man very thorough."
Aria reached for the drive. "Let me."
Both men stared at her.
"I'll send it in," she said. "Kael's already a target. You said they're watching him. If I leak it under my name, it'll buy him time. They won't expect it."
Kael's grip on her hand tightened. "No."
"Yes." She turned to him. "You can't do everything alone. You don't have to protect me from this."
"Aria—"
"I'm not leaving you. But I won't let you fight this war with your fists tied and mine in my pockets."
There was a pause. Then Kael exhaled, the tension in his chest unraveling.
"I never deserved you," he murmured.
She smiled, fierce and soft. "That's your problem, not mine."
Jace looked between them. "You two lovebirds finished?"
They both turned.
"Good," he continued, plugging the flash drive into his old laptop. "Because we're on the clock."
By midnight, the files were encrypted, uploaded to three anonymous outlets, and timed for release with accompanying emails to a network of journalists, watchdog groups, and whistleblower platforms.
Aria hit send on the last message.
And just like that, the war began.
Kael stood at the window, staring out into the darkness. He hadn't said much since Aria took the risk. The silence was thick, not with tension—but with something heavier. Dread.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
"No."
She came to stand beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.
He didn't speak for a long moment. Then:
"I kept thinking I'd never see you again. That dying would be easier than this. But now that we're here, I realize… living hurts more. Because it means I can still lose you."
She turned his face toward hers.
"You're not losing me, Kael."
"I already did once."
"And I found you again."
He kissed her then—not rushed, not desperate, but like an apology wrapped in every inch of love he couldn't say aloud. She felt his fear in every breath, every trembling brush of his fingers against her cheek. And she kissed him back like a promise.
They slept in each other's arms that night, the air thick with what they didn't say.
The morning was cruel in its brightness.
Jace was gone when they woke. In his place, a note scrawled in sharp handwriting:
"They know. I bought you a window. Use it."
Kael cursed and threw on his jacket. Aria was already pulling her boots on.
"We run?" she asked.
"We move smart."
They left the motel through the back alley, Kael checking every corner. They took a different car this time—one Jace had stashed two blocks away. It was a beat-up truck, dented and loud, but it moved.
They headed for the mountains.
Aria sat silently, staring out the window. The ache in her chest had nothing to do with fear now. It was grief—grief for what they could've had if time had been kinder. Grief for the man beside her, who bore scars deeper than his skin.
"You never told me what the disease is called," she said.
Kael didn't answer at first.
Then, "It doesn't have a name. That's part of the cover. The files just call it Project Niveus."
"Meaning?"
"Latin. For snow-white. Clean. Untouched."
She scoffed bitterly. "How poetic for something that kills."
Kael gripped the wheel tighter. "They wanted something that could slow cell decay. Reverse aging. Or at least preserve soldiers on the field longer. But it doesn't stop time—it hijacks it. I was the longest survivor. The others… didn't make it past the third injection."
Aria felt sick. "You're telling me you're the only one left?"
"Jace thinks there may be one more. A girl. Seventeen. Vanished two years ago."
"We need to find her."
He glanced at her. "Aria—"
"No. If she's still alive, she's the key to proving this wasn't just about you. They'll deny everything unless we show the world there are more victims."
Kael nodded. "We'll find her. I promise."
They reached an old cabin deep in the forest by evening. Kael had spent time there before—off-grid, no cameras, stocked supplies. The snow had already started to fall, blanketing the roof like time trying to hide something sacred.
Inside, it smelled of pine and ash. Aria ran her hands along the dusty shelves, her mind racing.
Kael collapsed onto the couch, breathing harder than normal.
Aria noticed. "Your chest?"
He nodded. "It's starting again."
She rushed to him, helping him sit back. "Lie down."
He did, lips pressed into a thin line as a shudder passed through him.
"I hate this," he whispered. "I hate you seeing me like this."
"I don't." She stroked his hair back. "I'd rather have you like this than not at all."
He closed his eyes. "Don't fall in love with a ghost."
She kissed his forehead. "Too late."
They sat in silence, the storm outside howling like it knew what was coming. The world might burn tomorrow. But tonight, in the warmth of a hidden cabin and the arms of the only person who truly saw him—Kael Morgan was not dying.
He was living.
For her.