And destabilizing him took exceptional effort.
Kali hissed at him, “Itrustedyou.”
Pushing off the ash tree, he approached her. “Kali?—”
She punched his chest. Her fist slid down his dark green long-sleeved shirt, the fabric rippling as it snagged under her hand. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want your excuses. I don’t—” Her voice trembled. “Just leave me alone for tonight, Zion. That’s all I ask.
He tracked how she disappeared into the forest’s shadows, then turned back to me. A breeze rustled his golden-brown hair, sheared short, as he surveyed me, from my shins to my ribs to my face.
At last, he threw the fabric hanging on his shoulder to me and strode in Kali’s footsteps, pausing to check if I was following.
Putting on the black hoodie, I kept my distance as I marched after him, all the way to the grassy field at the fringes of our compound. As silent as before, we moved down the desolate streets, and I pulled the hood to conceal my identity.
He took the long way home, the path winding around the unoccupied dwellings and ruins instead of the heart of our compound. Once we neared the central building, I melted into a back alley, using the fallen night’s camouflage to my advantage.
Careful to avoid kicking the tiny rocks littering the ground, I glued myself to a rusted garbage container, its gray paint flaking off to reveal the oxygen-affected metal beneath.
Without another word, Zion went over to Ava and Jayla rummaging in the back of?—
Now that wasmycar parked in the middle of the road. It was hard to mistake the fresh coat of black paint I had sprayed on it half a year ago. Usually, nobody fussed over their vehicles, most sporting rust the same way decay marked the peaches if you left them on the windowsill for too long.
Except instead of decay, my car’s bumper boasted a glaringly obviousindentation.
As if sensing my trail of thoughts, Zion shot me a look, a lopsided smile flashing in the yellow light dousing the street.
Careful not to draw unwanted attention, he resumed the conversation with Ava and Jayla. I couldn’t hear their chat, but two long ginger braids glided along Jayla’s yellow parka as she gave a nod to Zion.
Right on point, Kali emerged from the central building, and the two women intercepted her path, steering her in the direction of our main bar—Vice.
Zion must have asked them to accompany Kali to their workplace.
As I watched her trudge away, my legs tingled with the need to chase.
But I stayed rooted.
I knew that if I lost her trust, I would never regain it. It would forever remain out of reach. Beyond deals, bargains, and transactions. Unattainable.
And I had done just that—betrayed her trust.
And had talked Zion into doing it too.
When the trio of women were out of sight, he scanned the street. Satisfied with his inspection, he waved me over to the back exit of the central building. Mute, we climbed up the stairwell, the doors at the landings shut, not a murmur disturbing the peace, save for our footfalls reverberating in the closed space.
Five steps before me, Zion moved smoothly, identically to how he had fought the soldiers in Ilasall. Graceful. Fluid. He had glided around them so swiftly and stealthily, it had temporarily hypnotized me.
His movements had resembled a story: launching, retreating, attacking, defending, striking, deflecting—a dance of sorts. Like waves crashing onto the shore, individual and part of a larger picture at the same time.
With his back to me, he opened the stairwell door to our floor and sauntered down the hallway, toward Kali’s bedroom. Circular, recessed lamps dotting the ceiling illuminated the bob of his throat before he slipped inside.
Following him, I shut the bedroom door behind me, its click as spine-chilling as Zion’s restless marching along the large windows lining the far wall. The streetlights cast a dim glow around his form.
“Ava will look after Kali,” he rushed out. “At Vice.” His pacing faltered. “You—” He ripped at his hair. “I—” As he backed away, his mouth opened and closed. “This— I— What—” Finally, he whispered, “You’re here,” and whipped around, resting his forehead against the window, unable to look at me.
My throat dry, I croaked out, “Zion.”
Four letters, a name, an instruction, a command, and it worked like a charm.
Slowly spinning around, he gripped the windowsill at his back. His gaze raked over me, cutting through the murk swirling in the distance between us, and I…froze.
