Jin stared at him for a long moment—wind tugging at his coat, lightning flashing behind like a scene from an old war film.
Then, without a word?
He reached back.
Grabbed Ming Ji's wrist.
Pulled him sharply onto the bike behind him.
*"Hold on,"* Jin said flatly. *"And don't you dare start singing."*
Ming Ji laughed into the wind as he wrapped his arms around Jin's waist—tight, unshakable—his voice warm against Jin's ear:
***"Only if you promise not to brood *too* hard when things get ugly."***
Jin revved the engine. The hover-bike roared to life, lifting off the ground with a pulse of azure light.
***"No promises."***
And in one smooth motion?
They shot forward—cutting through rain and darkness like a blade through silk, vanishing into the storm-laced horizon…toward ruined villages, toward blood-stained earth, toward **Nihara**—and whatever nightmare waited there.
But not alone. Never again alone.
---
