“I can lose the village,” he says quietly. “I can rebuild structures. Replace supplies. Recover ground.”
Something in my chest tightens.
“But I don’t lose you,” he continues.
The words land harder than anything else.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just—
Final.
I stare at him.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I say, but my voice isn’t as steady as it was before.
“I do,” he replies.
“No,” I shake my head, but I don’t step back. “You don’t.”
His hand lifts slightly, not touching me yet, just hovering there like he’s deciding whether he’s allowed to.
“That’s the only thing here I won’t negotiate,” he says.
The space between us disappears before I fully register the movement.
His hand settles at my jaw, not rough, but firm enough that I can’t pretend it isn’t there, his thumb brushing lightly along the edge of my cheek where ash has settled into my skin.
“Then you’re going to have to fight me for it,” I say, my voice lower now, breath catching just slightly as I look up at him.
Something shifts in his expression.
Not control.
Something sharper.
“Careful,” he murmurs.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I might.”
The heat of it catches me off guard, not just the words, but the way he says them—low, restrained, like there’s more behind them than he’s willing to let out.
“Then do it,” I say.
I don’t think.
I don’t plan.
I just?—
Say it.
The silence that follows isn’t empty.
