The faint sound of the young scavenger's quiet breathing faded into the tunnel's darkness as she curled into a far corner, finally letting herself rest after hours of terror. Aris stayed pressed against the cold concrete wall, the gun still loose in her grip, her gaze fixed on the tunnel mouth. Her body had relaxed, but her guard never truly lowered—not in the Wasteland, not ever.
Kael remained silent beside her, his golden eyes cutting through the dark with eerie clarity. He didn't comment on the dried meat, the quiet warning, or the split-second softness he'd clearly seen in her. He didn't tease her about breaking her own ruthless rules. He simply watched, respected, and stayed quiet.
Aris was secretly grateful.
If he'd mocked her, she would've had to stab him.
And that would've ruined her entire profit plan.
"You've never done that before," Kael said finally, his voice low enough to avoid carrying.
"Done what?" Aris asked, pretending she had no idea what he was talking about.
"Given away food without demanding something in return," he clarified. "You didn't ask for coins. You didn't ask for information. You didn't even make her work for it. You just… helped her."
Aris's jaw tightened. She hated being seen. Hated being read. Hated the tiny crack in her carefully built armor that let people think she was anything but a survivor who cared only about herself.
"She was a kid," Aris muttered, defensive. "Kids are useless. Raiders kill them for fun. It was a waste of a perfectly good strip of meat, but if she screams and brings the raiders down here, we both die. It was practical. Not kind."
"Practical," Kael repeated, the word dry with amusement. "That's what you're calling it."
"Call it whatever you want," Aris snapped. "I still sell you. I still loot everything I can. I still leave people to die if they slow me down. One stupid, impractical decision doesn't change who I am."
"Of course not," Kael said, his tone so agreeing it felt like a tease. "Nothing has changed."
Aris glowered in the dark, but she didn't have a comeback.
He was doing it on purpose.
Annoying warlord.
Time stretched slow and thick in the tunnel. The drip of water, the distant rustle of small creatures, and the quiet inhale of the sleeping girl were the only sounds. Above them, the sun must have climbed high by now—safe enough to leave the tunnels, if they were careful.
Aris pushed herself off the wall, muscles screaming in protest. She flicked the flashlight back on, its weak beam cutting through the dark.
"We move," she said quietly. "Sun's up. Raiders will be resting in the heat, not searching. We can put distance between us and this entire area."
Kael nodded, already falling into step beside her.
Before they left, Aris paused beside the young scavenger. The girl was asleep, curled into a tight ball, the half-eaten dried meat still clutched in one hand. Aris stared down at her for a long, quiet second.
Then she reached into her bag and pulled out the tiny, nearly empty vial of alcohol she'd looted earlier. It was almost worthless, but it could clean a cut, calm a fever, or even be traded for a sip of water.
She set it gently beside the girl, then turned away without a word.
Kael saw.
He didn't say a thing.
Aris pretended she didn't care that he'd seen.
They stepped back into the main tunnel, their footsteps quiet on the concrete. Aris led the way, moving with the same sharp, sure confidence as always, like the last hour had never happened. Like she hadn't given away food, hadn't left a tiny gift, hadn't let a single crack show in her walls.
The tunnel sloped upward, the air growing warmer and drier, until they could see faint daylight spilling through the collapsed entrance up ahead.
Freedom.
Or at least, the Wasteland's brutal version of it.
"Once we're out, we head east," Aris said, her voice businesslike again. "There's a old water tower a few miles from here. It's still half-full. We fill our canteens, then keep moving. No more markets. No more sales. Not until we're sure we've lost the raiders."
"No more sales?" Kael repeated, a faint tease in his tone. "Does that mean I'm off the hook?"
Aris shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Don't get excited. It just means I'm postponing the auction. You're still salvage. Expensive, high-maintenance, drama-queen salvage. But salvage all the same."
"Naturally," Kael said.
The sunlight hit them as they stepped out of the tunnel, bright and blinding after hours in the dark. Aris lifted a hand to shield her eyes, squinting at the empty, ruined landscape stretching out in every direction. The sky was a harsh, cloudless blue, the sun blazing down like a judgment.
No raiders.
No engines.
No sign they'd been followed.
Safe.
For now.
Aris took a deep, relieved breath, then slung her backpack higher on her shoulders. She started walking east, toward the distant glint of the water tower.
Kael followed, silent and steady at her side.
The Wasteland was quiet around them, endless and broken and full of dangers. But for the first time since she'd pulled him from the rubble, Aris didn't feel entirely alone.
She refused to acknowledge it.
Refused to think about it.
Refused to let it change a single one of her rules.
She was still a scavenger.
Still ruthless.
Still in this for the profit.
And she was definitely still going to sell him.
Probably.
Maybe later.
Much later.