He turned his head just slightly, and suddenly our mouths were a breath apart. His lips brushed mine. The kiss was tentative at first, then deeper and desperate.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was the kind you gave when you weren’t sure you’d ever get another chance.
When Kit finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“We’ll have to keep moving,” he said softly. “They’ll come after us.”
“I know.”
“I burned my bridges tonight, Simon.” His voice shook. “The Guild won’t forgive this. Marcus will tell them?—”
I pressed my hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammer under my palm. “Then we’ll disappear together.”
He huffed a small, disbelieving sound. “You make it sound easy.”
“Not easy,” I said. “Just worth it.”
Kit smiled faintly, the kind of smile that was half exhaustion, half wonder. “You have no idea how much trouble you’re worth.”
The van hit a bump, jolting us both, and I laughed quietly, the sound raw but real.
The road stretched ahead, narrow, dark, and uncertain. But with Kit beside me, every shadow felt a little less terrifying.
I reached for his hand again, our fingers tangling together over the console. He squeezed once, hard.
17
KIT
We didn’t stop drivinguntil the first light of dawn bled across the horizon. The van rattled down a lonely stretch of highway, the kind of road that didn’t see much life anymore.
I kept glancing in the side mirrors, half-expecting headlights to appear behind us, but the night stayed empty.
Simon’s hand was still in mine, resting between the seats. His thumb brushed lazy circles against my skin.
Every few minutes, I’d look over and catch him watching the road, quiet, his profile lit by the faint grey dawn. He looked tired. Pale, but alive.
Alive. God, I almost lost him.
“Next town,” I said, voice rough. “We’ll stop there. Change vehicles.”
Simon nodded, but didn’t say anything. The silence between us wasn’t heavy. Not the bad kind, anyway. It was full of all the things we couldn’t quite voice yet.
Fear. Relief. The thin thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, we’d actually made it out.
By the time we reached the next town, the sky was bleeding pink. A sleepy gas station glowed at the edge of the road, its flickering neon sign buzzing weakly.
I pulled over beside it, rubbing a hand over my face. We needed to choose a place to hole up in soon. Simon leaned forward, looking at the cracked windows and peeling paint.
“Picturesque,” he said softly.
“Don’t get too attached.” I killed the engine. “We’ll grab something temporary. A motel, maybe. Somewhere off-grid.”
He nodded again, but when I opened my door, his hand caught my sleeve.
“Kit.”
I looked down. His eyes met mine, full of quiet worry. “You’re shaking.”
