It's been five days since the Crucible fight.
My war on the gangs has been good maybe too good.
I sit at Wren's desk, half my armor still on, the other half scattered across the floor. A mess of wires and plating gleam in the early light. The clock tower hums faintly, gears turning above me like a heartbeat.
I hear her footsteps before I see her.
"Nate Ward," she says, voice teasing. "I upgrade your armor, and you throw it on the floor?"
I look up at her, tired but smiling. "I'm sorry. Long night."
She crosses her arms, pretending to scold me, but her eyes soften as she looks me over. "You know what… I think it's okay."
Wren steps closer, sets a hand on my chestplate, and kisses me. Her lips are warm, grounding.
"Oh," I whisper against her. "Maybe you can help me get this armor off."
She laughs quietly. "You never stop."
As dawn breaks, the first light filters through the clock face, golden and soft. I sit on the edge of the bed, shirt half-buttoned, letting the silence breathe. Wren lies curled up under the sheet, hair fanned across the pillow. The way the sun touches her skin makes her glow like the world around her forgot it was broken for a second.
I can't look away.
In that moment, I know. She's my reason. My anchor. My reminder that Redharbor still has something worth saving.
I dress in plain clothes, boots scuffed from the last fight, and head out. The morning air bites cool against my skin, clean and sharp. For once, the streets are quiet. No sirens. No screams. Just the sound of seagulls and the faint hum of distant traffic.
I almost don't recognize it.
Peace.
I grab her usual from the corner café black coffee for me, something too sweet for her. Two toasted bagels. The barista gives me that look again, like they're not sure if they've seen me before. I smile for the first time in a while. Maybe they never will.
The city smells like rain. It feels alive again.
When I get back to the tower, she's already up, perched at her workstation like a conductor at her symphony. Holograms flicker across half a dozen screens. She's focused, lost in it.
Before her sits a piece of armor new, sleek, metallic brown with silver highlights that catch the light like liquid. I step closer, but she senses me. Without looking up, she tosses a sheet over it.
"Hey," she says, grinning, wearing my shirt way too big on her. "That mine?"
"Got you breakfast," I reply, holding up the bag and coffee.
"Oh god, thank you." She snatches them like a starving raccoon.
"What's that you're working on?" I ask, nodding at the covered armor.
"Oh, that?" She smirks. "You don't get to see that until it's done."
I raise an eyebrow. "Secret project?"
"Something like that. You'll like it. I promise."
I kiss her, hand on her cheek. "You say that every time."
"And I'm always right."
She eats. I sip my coffee. For a while, we just… exist.
The ticking of the great clock fills the air. The morning light turns golden, glinting through the glass gears and casting halos across the walls.
Wren hums softly, head tilted, fingers tapping on her keyboard.
I sit back, watching her.
Maybe this is what peace feels like fragile, borrowed, but real. I know it won't last. Nothing ever does in Redharbor. But for this moment, I let myself believe it might.
Then, somewhere behind me, my comm flickers static, a burst of white noise, then silence.
Wren doesn't notice.
But I do.
I glance at the comm, jaw tightening. "Probably nothing," I tell myself.
Still, it feels like the city's whispering again.
Like it's reminding me peace never lasts long here.