Kanapa waves a hand. “Fine. But make it fast.”
I follow him toward what’s left of the command tent, every step tightening the coil in my gut. Amy stays behind, her eyes never leaving the civilians. One hand still on her recorder.
Inside, it’s hotter. Stifling. Smells like burnt synthfiber and melted plastic. The lamp flickers overhead, casting Kanapa’s face in harsh shadows.
He doesn’t sit. Just turns, arms crossed.
“You think I don’t see it?” he says. “The way you look at her. The way she talks like she belongs here. She’s not one of us. She’s a mouthpiece with a goddamn death wish.”
“She’swatching.That’s more than you’re doing.”
Kanapa’s jaw ticks.
“You’ve changed,” he says. “Used to be, I could trust you to hold the line. Now you flinch every time a civvy breathes too loud.”
“Iseethem,” I growl. “I see what this war’s turned into.”
“Then you’re blind.”
He steps closer, voice low. “They’ve been carving us apart for years. You think they won’t slit your throat the second you look away? They’re animals, Darun. And you’re getting too close.”
I clench my fists. “That’s not leadership. That’s genocide.”
He laughs. A sharp, barking thing. “Big word for someone who bleeds on command.”
I take a step toward him. “You want a fight?”
“I wantorder.” His eyes blaze. “And if I have to burn a few more villages to get it, so be it.”
That’s it.
The line’s gone. Crossed. Shattered.
There’s no coming back from this.
Not for him.
Not for me.
I step back. My voice is ice. “Stay away from her.”
He smirks. “Or what?”
I turn to leave. “Try me.”
Outside, the wind kicks up again, swirling ash into the sky. The civilians haven’t moved. Neither has Amy.
When I reach her, she doesn’t ask what happened.
She sees it.
She threads her fingers into mine without a word.
And together, we watch the camp settle into uneasy silence—like a battlefield waiting for permission to explode.
CHAPTER 17
AMY
