The cave was cold. The air was still and damp, as if time itself had stopped inside. I heard Will pulling branches and snow over the entrance—quickly, methodically—before sinking down on his knees beside me. His breathing was still heavy. So was mine.

  We said nothing for a while. Just sat there in the darkness, side by side, with the chaos a faint echo far away.

  But it wasn't silent.

  The screams could still be heard, muffled by earth and stone—but still clear. Someone was calling out. Someone was screaming. Something was roaring.

  I pressed my hands over my ears.

  "I shouldn't have left them," I whispered. "They're fighting for me... and I'm just... running."

  Will shook his head. "No. You're alive. And that's the most important thing you can do right now."

  "How can you say that?" I looked at him. In the faint light filtering through the opening, I could just make out his face. Dirty. Worn. Honest.

  "Because if they take you," he said quietly, "it's all over."

  He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the rock wall. I noticed now how tired he looked. Not just in his body—in his eyes. In his whole being.

  "I saw them, Tracy. Their eyes. They knew. It was you they were after."

  "But why? What am I?"

  Will stayed silent for a long time.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "I don't know everything," he finally said. "But I know you're... more than just human. There's something in you. Something that threatens their power. Maybe it's hope. Maybe it's something stronger."

  I breathed slowly, my gaze fixed on the small sliver of light seeping through the branches.

  "And you?" I whispered. "Why did you come back?"

  He looked at me. For a long time. So long that I had to meet his eyes.

  "Because I'd rather die with you than let them take you."

  I didn't know what to say. His words lay between us like something sacred. He hadn't just saved me—he had chosen me. Despite everything. Despite us.

  It was Will. The same Will who could barely look at me without growling at first. The one who, just days ago, questioned why I was even here. Now he was sitting here, in the darkness, blood on his cheek, whispering something I could hardly dare to understand.

  "Will..." I began, but he shook his head.

  "You don't have to say anything," he said quietly. "I just wanted you to know."

  But I wanted to say something. It burned behind my ribs, begging to come out.

  "I thought you hated me," I finally said, my voice rough, like I hadn't used it in ages.

  He let out a humorless laugh. "I thought so too."

  I smiled faintly. "It's kind of our thing, isn't it? Believing things that aren't true."

  He turned his head toward me. I could feel his gaze, even in the darkness. "And what do you believe now?"

  I swallowed. "That I don't want to be without you."

  The air between us changed. The silence became something else—not cold, not empty—but charged. Alive.

  He slowly reached out his hand. Let it rest on mine.

  I left it there.

  "I thought I'd lost you," he said, his voice low. Raw.

  "I thought you'd never come back."

  "I couldn't stay away," he whispered. "Not when I knew they were after you."

  I leaned my head against his shoulder. Just barely. Just to feel that he was really there.

  He didn't move away.

  His voice came near my ear: "We'll get through this. I don't know how. But we will. Together."

  I closed my eyes.

  For the first time since I got here, I wasn't afraid of what tomorrow would bring.