Vane didn't say anything. He couldn't. The sheer, desperate force of her demand stole the air from his lungs.
He looked at her, this magnificent, terrifying woman standing on the edge of oblivion, demanding to go out like a supernova rather than a fading ember. Denying her would be the only true betrayal.
He nodded, a jerky movement, and took her hand. Her grip was crushing, the hand of a warrior in her prime, burning with a borrowed fire that was already starting to flicker.
He led her off the cold balcony and back into the dim triage ward. The heavy metal door clanged shut behind them with finality, sealing them inside the concrete box that had been their entire world for weeks. The sound cut off the wind outside, leaving a sudden, heavy silence in its wake.
It was quieter in here, the fog muffled. The single bulb hanging from the ceiling cast long, swaying shadows that made the rows of empty cots look like waiting graves.
