Morning came like an aftershock.
Selene woke to the hollow sound of her own breath. Cassian was gone.
She sat up, blanket tangled at her waist, the air still scented with heat and dust and sweat. She pressed her palms into her face like she could scrub away what they'd done.
She didn't want to regret it.
But she did.
Not because of what it meant.
But because of how badly she wanted to do it again.
She pulled on her clothes from last night, still crumpled on the floor. Every scrape of fabric against her skin reminded her of him of rough hands, of bitten lips, of the way her name sounded strangled in his throat.
She left her room and went looking.
Cassian wasn't in the hallway, wasn't at the table where half-eaten rations sat abandoned, wasn't at the command hub where maps bled red ink and bullets.
He was outside.
Leaning against the doorframe of the storage bunker, cigarette between his lips, black shirt pulled tight across his shoulders.
Selene stopped a few feet away. "So, is this your thing now? Sleeping with ex-prisoners who try to stab you?"
He didn't flinch. He exhaled smoke. Didn't look at her.
"No. Just you."
She hated the way that made her stomach tighten.
She crossed her arms. "Are we going to talk about it?"
"Are you?"
"No."
"Then neither am I."
Silence.
A wind moved through the camp. Paper rustled. Somewhere, someone barked an order about fuel reserves. Life went on, as if the two of them hadn't set a match to something last night and watched it burn.
"I need to go out," he said suddenly.
"What?"
"There's a nearby convoy. Rumor says they're trading supplies with mercs. I need eyes on it."
Selene stiffened. "You mean you're taking me?"
"I mean I don't trust anyone else."
Her lips twitched, half-smirk, half-sneer. "You trust me?"
"I trust that if you wanted me dead, I'd be dead."
She didn't know if that was a compliment or a threat.
The road was cracked and silent.
Cassian drove a rusted military Jeep, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping a rhythm on his thigh. Selene rode shotgun, gun strapped to her side, hair pulled back, heart pounding in the cage of her ribs.
She hadn't been outside the compound since the collapse. Since the day she was captured and sold to the black sites like property. The world had gone to shit, but somehow it looked worse now like even the dirt had given up.
The trees were skeletons. The sky, a bruise.
"Stop here," she said, pointing at the edge of a broken overpass.
Cassian slowed.
They climbed the hill to a vantage point.
Below, dust churned. The convoy was real. Six trucks. One armored vehicle. Ten, maybe fifteen men. Armed. Faces covered.
Cassian pulled out a pair of binoculars.
"See anything familiar?" she asked.
"Logo on the trucks is Draxil Freight. They used to run illegal arms through Oregon before the riots."
"They're mercs."
"Worse. They're rats. They don't fight. They collect corpses and strip gear."
Selene felt her jaw clench.
And then one of the trucks opened.
A man was dragged out.
No. Not a man. A boy.
Young. Maybe thirteen. Beaten. Tied.
Selene froze.
Cassian went rigid beside her.
"They're trafficking."
She didn't need him to say it. She already knew.
Her hands tightened around the binoculars until the edges bit into her palms.
"I'm going down there," she said.
"No, you're not."
"I'm not watching this happen."
Cassian grabbed her arm. "Selene—this isn't a fight we can win. We don't have backup. We don't even know how many are armed."
Her voice was a razor. "Let go of me."
"You'll get yourself killed."
"Then I die doing something right."
Cassian let her go. But his jaw ticked, like he was chewing on glass.
"Ten minutes," he said finally. "Then I'm coming after you whether you like it or not."
She nodded, already moving.
She made it to the trucks without being seen.
Slipped between the rust and metal, keeping low, heart in her throat.
She found the boy in the back of the second truck. Gagged. Hands bound. His eyes were too old for his face. The kind that had seen things you weren't supposed to see before puberty.
She knelt beside him, cutting the rope with a stolen blade.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm getting you out of here."
He looked at her like he didn't believe her. Like he didn't believe in anything anymore.
Then—footsteps.
Voices.
Too many.
Selene shoved the boy into a hidden corner beneath canvas tarp. "Don't move. No matter what."
She turned.
And came face to face with one of the mercs.
He looked her up and down. Grinned. "What's a pretty thing like you doing out here?"
She didn't answer.
She drove her blade into his throat before he could finish another word.
Blood. Warm. Messy.
His body hit the ground with a thud.
Shouts exploded behind her.
Guns.
Too many.
She grabbed the boy. Ran.
Then—gunfire.
Not at her.
From the hill.
Cassian.
Covering her escape like a goddamn maniac.
She didn't hesitate.
She ran.
They ran.
All the way back to the Jeep, bullets screaming around them.
That night, the boy slept in a spare room.
Selene sat at the edge of her bed again. Shaking. Bloody. Alive.
Cassian stood in her doorway.
"Can I come in?"
She nodded.
He did.
Closed the door.
Sat beside her.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Then, softly, he said, "You scared the shit out of me today."
She laughed. Dry. Exhausted. "That makes two of us."
Cassian didn't touch her. Didn't move.
Just said, "You saved him."
"You covered me."
"I always will."
She looked at him.
He looked at her.
This time, when he kissed her, it was different.
Softer.
Slower.
Like a promise instead of punishment.
And for once, Selene didn't feel like she was breaking.
She felt like she was being put back together.