“You didn’t eat at all earlier,” he says gently, setting the bowls on a small crate. “Asha… you need the strength.”
I try to smile, but it feels thin. “My stomach disagrees.”
His eyes move over my face, reading every flicker, every hesitation. Ryder has always seen more than I want him to.
He steps closer, slow, deliberate, like approaching a frightened creature. “Can I sit?”
I nod, and the cot dips as he lowers himself beside me. Our knees brush, just barely, but it’s enough to set every nervetrembling. The warmth of him seeps through the space between us as though he’s a small flame, steady and grounding, where everything inside me feels unmoored.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Outside, someone laughs. A pot clatters. The wind rolls low across the camp. But in here, it’s just Ryder’s breathing and my own ragged attempts to match it.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“I know.” My voice cracks like thin ice. “I can feel it in my bones… everything we’re walking into. And this power—” I glance at my hands, flexing them as the strange energy coils along my fingers like restless smoke. “It doesn’t belong in me. Part of me is afraid it’s going to tear me apart before we can save everyone.”
Ryder reaches out, hesitates, then gently takes my hand in his. His touch is warm, calloused, unmistakably real. The contrast makes my breath hitch.
“Asha,” he says, low and earnest, “I’m right here. I’m not letting anything take you. You saved me, you took the serum from my veins like it was nothing… You’re stronger than you think.” His eyes consume mine. “I’ve just got you back, I’ll be damned if I lose you again.”
His thumb strokes across the back of my hand. A small, steady motion. A promise.
It melts something in me—something tight, something knotted. My shoulders sag, the breath leaving me in a shaky exhale as I lean into him without thinking. Ryder goes still only for a heartbeat before his arm curves around my back, pulling me in, holding me like I won’t break.
The closeness is intoxicating. His scent—pine, smoke, warm metal—wraps around me. His heartbeat thrums steady beneath my cheek. I didn’t realise how cold I’d been until now.
“I hate sitting here,” I whisper, “waiting… while the others are out there.”
He tilts his head down, his breath brushing the top of my hair. “They know what they’re doing.”
My hands fist lightly in the fabric of his shirt, grounding myself in him. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” His voice softens even further. “Let me take your mind off it.”
I lift my head, and we’re suddenly too close—his face inches from mine, eyes searching mine with something unguarded, something I’ve tried very hard not to name.
Heat spikes beneath my skin—not from the power inside me, but from him.
“Ryder…” I whisper, unsure if it’s a warning or a plea.
His gaze drops to my lips for the briefest, betraying second.
The air between us changes—thickens, sweetens, draws tight like a held breath.
Then he speaks, voice rough:
“Asha… tell me not to, and I won’t.”
He’s giving me an out.
But he’s also asking.
And Gods help me, the last thing I want is distance. Maybe it’s desperation, maybe it’s the fear of what comes next. Perhaps this is the last night I’ll spend with the man I love. It’s been so long since I felt him—since our bodies fit together in that familiar, aching harmony.
I seize him by the vest and pull him toward me, pressing my lips to his. He answers at once, his kiss deep and commanding, taking full control. He kisses me like he’s hungry—starving—as though he’s been deprived for days. I meet him with the same need, the same urgency, as if he’s the only salvation I have left.
He pulls back just enough for a half-smirk to curve his lips.
“Let me take some of that weight off your shoulders.”
