Adrian's POV
Adrian had once prided himself on reading people. Back in the old world, before the fires, before the skies went gray, before the silence, he could sit across from someone and know exactly what they needed to hear. He knew which words calmed suspicion, which smiles sealed a deal, which gestures made him appear honest.
But Julyah… Julyah broke that. Or worse, she made all of it useless.
Because every time she looked at him with those storm-colored eyes, the ones that never blinked in the face of danger, all of his practiced thoughts disintegrated. She didn't play games. She didn't charm. She didn't try to win him over.
She just knew things.
Like the way she'd said it that night, sitting quietly by the fireplace, her voice low but unyielding."The world's not done yet."
He had nodded. He hadn't asked for proof. But the way she'd said it. It had haunted him since.
Tonight was no different. Like most nights, Adrian couldn't sleep. He hadn't even tried. He had gone up to the roof instead, where the world still looked wide and endless, even though everything was closing in. The sky above the villa was clear, but the stars didn't shine as brightly as they used to. They looked tired. Distant.
Frost curled across the metal railings. The satellite dishes were rimmed in ice. The cold bit at his fingers, but he didn't move. Something about the silence was off. It wasn't peaceful—it was tight, like the earth itself was holding its breath.
He gripped the railing tighter.
Behind him, the rooftop door creaked open. He didn't have to look to know who it was.
Only one person moved that quietly.
"You can't sleep either?" he asked without turning.
"No." Julyah's voice was soft, nearly lost in the wind."You?"
He shook his head. "Didn't even try."
She came to stand beside him. Her steps were light, like the ground would crack if she pressed too hard. She leaned on the railing, arms folded tight over a jacket that was clearly too thin for the temperature.
Without a word, Adrian slipped his own jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn't protest. That worried him more than anything.
"You think I'm crazy," she said.
He frowned. "No."
"Then you think I'm lying."
"I think you're afraid," Adrian said slowly. "And you don't want the others to know how bad it's going to get."
She didn't answer right away. But when she finally turned to look at him, her expression was unreadable. Her eyes were sharp, but her voice was soft.
"I've seen storms that bury entire cities," she said. "I've watched snow fall so hard and so fast, you can't see your own hands. I've seen people freeze before they could finish screaming."
Adrian's stomach twisted. He looked at her jaw, clenched tight. She wasn't exaggerating. She wasn't trying to scare him. She was remembering.
"Why don't you tell the others?" he asked.
Her eyes didn't leave the horizon. "Because they still think they have time."
"And you don't?"
"I stopped believing in time a long time ago."
That hit him harder than he expected. He turned fully toward her, studying her face. The cold had pinked her cheeks. Her lips were pale. She looked too small in his coat, too worn for someone who still stood so straight.
Adrian hated how much he wanted to protect her. She didn't need protecting. She had saved them more times than he could count. She was the reason they had shelter, food, safety. She saw the danger before it arrived. She planned for things no one else even considered.
But tonight, she looked alone.
And Ellis—God, Ellis.
Ellis had no idea how easy he had it. He flirted without fear, tossed jokes like snowballs, acted like they were still teenagers at a college party. He could stand close to Julyah and say things like, "If I weren't so annoying, I'd propose," and she would laugh. She'd roll her eyes, but she wouldn't pull away.
Adrian stood in the cold, silent, watching the stars. He couldn't say those things. He didn't know how to be casual with someone like her.
"You're quiet," Julyah said.
He exhaled through his nose. "Just thinking."
"About the storm?"
"No," he said honestly."About you."
She glanced at him then, curious. "What about me?"
"I don't know who you are," he said. "But I trust you anyway. And that scares me."
She didn't flinch. She didn't back away. She just looked at him, steady and calm, like she could see every unspoken thought behind his words.
Then, gently: "You're not a politician anymore."
Adrian gave a dry, bitter smile. "No. I think I burned that part of me back at the city gates."
"You look more like a soldier now."
He turned back toward the sky. "Then maybe I finally became useful."
A gust of wind blew across the roof, sharp and biting. They stood shoulder to shoulder, both staring out into the dark. The silence between them wasn't heavy. It was honest.
"Adrian?" she said after a long pause.
"Yeah?"
"If I asked you to follow me into something dangerous… blindly… would you?"
There was no hesitation. "Yes."
She blinked. That answer had clearly surprised her. "Even if it got you killed?"
He gave a humorless smile. "Then I'd finally be good at something."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then her hand brushed his. It was a small touch—barely there—but it wasn't an accident.
Warm. Brief. Gone.
But he felt it like a spark.
Adrian didn't speak. He didn't move. But every part of him felt it. The weight of her presence. The heat of her hand. The promise hidden in silence.
The wind picked up. Below them, the earth trembled faintly. Just once. Like something ancient had stirred beneath the ground.
Adrian's knuckles tightened on the railing again.
He didn't need Julyah to say it.
The world wasn't done yet.
And neither were they.