“It’s the only way.”
“No, it isn’t.” I step closer. “You’re not doing this alone again.”
“I won’t be alone,” he says quietly. “They’ll be right behind me.”
The air seems to collapse around me. “You’re going to lead them away.”
His silence is the answer.
I take a step back, shaking my head. “You’ll get yourself killed.”
“Maybe,” he says, and the way he says it makes my stomach twist. “But if I don’t, they’ll find you both before you clear the underport. Tarek knows what he’s doing. He’ll scan for the heat signatures of three fugitives. If it’s just two—just you and Nessa—you have a chance.”
I want to scream at him. Instead, I whisper, “You don’t get to decide that.”
“Someone has to.”
Nessa looks between us, eyes wide. “What’s happening?”
I crouch down, take her hands. “Nothing, baby. We’re just talking about how to keep you safe.”
She frowns. “Why can’t Da come with us?”
Vael kneels too, meeting her gaze. The light hits his face, cutting a hard line down the side of his jaw. “Because I’ve got to make sure the bad ones follow the wrong trail. You and your mom need a head start.”
Her chin trembles. “I can be fast too.”
“I know you can,” he says softly. “Faster than both of us. But this isn’t about running fast—it’s about running smart.”
She grips his metal wrist. “Please don’t go.”
He cups her cheek with his human hand. “I’ll find you again, cub. You have my word.”
She presses her face into his chest, small sob muffled by his jacket. His arm folds around her, protective, tender, desperate. I can see the tremor in his shoulders.
When she finally lets go, he stands, looks at me.
“Rynn—”
“No.” My voice cracks. “You can’t ask me to watch you walk away again.”
“I’m not asking. I’m telling you this is how she lives.”
“Ican’t lose you.”
He steps close until his forehead almost touches mine. His breath is warm, his voice barely a whisper. “You already lost me once. Don’t make it twice by staying.”
I close my eyes. The smell of him—metal and sweat and faint ozone from the collar—wraps around me. I want to memorize it, but the scent hurts like a scar.
We stand in silence while Nessa tucks Razorclaw into her bag. The air hums with distant machinery, deep and rhythmic. I can taste rust on my tongue.
Finally I whisper, “Drel’s map said the tram line’s unstable.”
He nods. “I’ll clear the debris before you get there. You’ll have a straight shot.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.” His voice softens. “You’ve always been the one who made it real, Rynn. The one whofixedthings. You’ll fix this too.”
