“He won’t find us.”
Her lips twitch. “You sound certain.”
“I’ve made a life out of staying alive.”
“That’s not the same as living,” she mutters.
The words settle like dust. I watch her hands, the slight tremor that starts when she pauses too long.
“You’re burning yourself out.”
She finally looks at me. “We don’t get to rest, Vael. Not yet.”
I want to argue, but she’s right. So instead, I reach out and touch her wrist. “When was the last time you ate?”
She opens her mouth, probably to deflect, but her stomach answers for her—a low, miserable growl that makes Nessa stir in her sleep.
I smirk. “That long, huh?”
“Shut up,” she mutters, but her lips curve into something close to a smile.
I tear a ration bar in half and hand her the bigger piece. “Here. Doctor’s orders.”
“I’m the doctor,” she says, taking it anyway.
“Then consider it a second opinion.”
She bites off a piece, chews slowly, watching me over the edge of the wrapper. “You ever going to stop treating everything like a mission?”
“When I stop needing to survive it.”
That gets her quiet again.
The night stretches long. The only sound is the steady tick of the recycler and Nessa’s soft breathing. I find myself watching her sleep—her tiny fists curled, hair tangled against her cheek. She’s beautiful in a way that hurts.
“She called you Da,” Rynn says suddenly.
I don’t answer. My throat’s too tight.
“She didn’t even think about it,” she goes on, softer now. “Just said it.”
“She’s smart,” I manage.
“She’sours.” The word trembles out of her. “And she’s growing up in a world that keeps taking from her.”
“She won’t lose again,” I say, more promise than fact.
Rynn leans forward, elbows on her knees. “You sound like you can guarantee that.”
“I can try.”
“You can’t stop the war, Vael.”
“No. But I can damn well make sure it doesn’t touch her.”
She looks at me for a long moment, eyes searching. “You really believe that?”
“I have to.”
