Maria’s feet trembled at the edge of the roof.

  The building beneath her was old and salty, as if the sea had been gnawing at its bones for years. Below, the water stretched out like a black mirror, the waves gentle tonight—almost kind—yet the cold rising from them felt like a warning. The ocean didn’t look angry.

  It looked patient.

  One step, and it would receive her without judgment.

  One step, and everything would finally stop.

  The wind shoved at her hair and stung her cheeks until her eyes watered. She raised one hand toward the empty sky, fingers spread, as if she could catch something that wasn’t there anymore.

  “Here I come,” she whispered.

  Behind her, silence cracked.

  “Maria, please step back.”

  Noor’s voice didn’t sound like an order. It sounded like a prayer.

  Maria didn’t turn around. If she turned, she might see Noor’s face. And if she saw Noor’s face, she might remember that people still existed. That warmth still existed. That she still had a body, still had breath, still had time—and time was the enemy.

  “Noor,” Maria said, her voice thin in the wind, “let me go.”

  Footsteps moved carefully across the roof—slow, cautious, as if Noor was approaching a wild animal that might leap. Maria felt Noor’s presence behind her, felt the heat of her desperation trying to reach her back.

  “Maria,” Noor pleaded. “I know you don’t want to die.”

  Maria let out a laugh so quiet it almost disappeared.

  Noor’s voice rose, urgent and breaking. “I know you still want to live. I know you’re in love. I know you can’t leave us halfway through our mission.”

  The words hit Maria like stones.

  Love.

  Mission.

  As if those things were still clean. As if they still meant what they used to mean.

  Maria’s teeth chattered. The cold had crawled into her bones, deep enough that she couldn’t tell if she was shaking from the wind or from herself.

  “Do you even know me?” she asked without turning.

  There was a pause—long enough for the sea to breathe.

  “Yes,” Noor said, softer now. “I don’t know a lot about you. Because you keep everything to yourself. But I know this: you’re not a coward.”

  Maria’s fingers tightened on the air.

  Another voice cut through the moment like a blade.

  “You don’t ask for help, damn—”

  “Kyle,” Noor snapped, warning.

  But Kyle didn’t stop. He never stopped.

  Maria finally turned her head just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. He stood a few steps away from Noor, taller than both of them, shoulders squared like he had been carved out of stubborn stone. Even now, even on a roof above the ocean, his presence felt like a wall.

  “You don’t ask for help,” Kyle repeated, hard and furious. “You just… disappear.”

  Maria swallowed. Something in her chest shifted—painful, sharp.

  “Kyle,” she said.

  And in that single word, her voice betrayed her. Not the mission. Not the revolution. Not the world.

  Her.

  Kyle’s jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, he looked like he wanted to spit something cruel at her. Then his eyes moved—just slightly—to her feet on the ledge.

  His face changed.

  He moved.

  Maria’s body made its decision before her mind did. The cold, the height, the open water—it all pulled. Her heel slipped.

  For half a second, the world turned weightless.

  Kyle lunged.

  His hand caught her wrist so hard it burned. The force yanked her backward, and Maria crashed onto the rough roof. Pain flashed through her shoulder and spine. The breath exploded out of her lungs.

  Kyle stood over her, chest heaving.

  “Learn one thing,” he yelled, voice echoing across the roof. “One damn thing. Ask for help!”

  Maria stared up at the night sky, unable to speak.

  Noor dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her. Noor’s body shook against Maria’s. Warm tears hit Maria’s cold cheek.

  Maria didn’t remember the last time someone held her like she was human.

  Noor’s voice broke into a sob. “Don’t do that again. Don’t you ever do that again.”

  Maria’s throat tightened. She wanted to speak. She wanted to say something—anything—but words had become heavy, like iron chains around her tongue.

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  Noor lifted her head and glared at Kyle through tears. “You were so harsh, you big jerk!”

  Kyle’s anger flickered. Something exhausted crossed his face—like the anger had been keeping him upright, and without it he might collapse.

  He swallowed. “I’m sorry, Maria.”

  The apology sounded like it hurt him.

  He crouched and, without asking, slid his arm under Maria’s back and knees.

  Maria flinched instinctively. Her body didn’t trust touch.

  Kyle ignored the flinch. He lifted her anyway, steady and firm.

  “I’m taking her inside,” he said.

  Noor wiped her face with the back of her sleeve and followed them down, into the building where the others slept.

  The inside smelled of smoke and wet clothes. The crew had made a small camp in the main room: blankets, weapons stacked neatly, boots lined like soldiers along the wall. A dying fire sat in a stone pit at the center, its last embers faint as a heartbeat.

  Kyle lowered Maria near the fire.

  Noor rushed to feed it—throwing in thick logs until the flames jumped, hungry and bright.

  Light warmed Maria’s face. But the warmth didn’t reach far enough inside.

  People stirred. Someone groaned. Someone coughed.

  Jean sat up first, hair messy, voice thick with sleep. “What’s going on?”

  Kyle’s eyes swept the room like a warning. “Maria tried to jump into the ocean,” he said flatly. “That’s the end of it. Not even a word.”

  Silence slammed down.

  Hope—small, sharp-eyed, always watching—shifted on her blanket. “Okay, dude,” she muttered, trying for humor, “chill. You’re too serious.”

  Then her expression tightened.

  “Anyway,” Hope added, quieter now. “Today is the day.”

  The words changed the air.

  Today is the day.

  Even Maria felt it—a tightening of the room, like everyone’s lungs had grown smaller.

  Noor looked at Maria, worry slicing through her face. “Maria’s not okay,” she said, hesitant. “She can’t join us in this operation.”

  Maria’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

  Kyle’s gaze snapped to Noor. “She will be with me.” His voice left no room to argue. “We’ll be in the front. As planned.”

  He looked down at Maria, waiting.

  Demanding.

  Not comfort.

  An answer.

  Maria forced her throat to work. “Okay,” she managed.

  It was all she could give.

  Kyle nodded once, as if that settled the world.

  People lay back down, uneasy. The fire crackled. Outside, the sea continued to breathe, patient and cold.

  Maria stared into the flames until they blurred.

  In the orange glow, she imagined a different fire. A different night. A different scream.

  Eva.

  Maria squeezed her eyes shut.

  Not now.

  Not now.

  By afternoon, the building was almost empty.

  The crew had left in small groups, moving like shadows. Weapons hidden. Faces covered. Plans spoken in whispers, then swallowed.

  Maria remained with Kyle.

  It wasn’t kindness. It was custody.

  The air inside was warmer now, but Maria still felt cold. She stood near the table, arms folded, trying to look like she belonged in her own skin.

  “I’ll take a shower,” she said. “Get ready.” Maria knew that she needed to act.

  Kyle didn’t move from his chair. He sat across from her like a judge who didn’t believe in mercy. “How do I make sure you won’t do something stupid?”

  Maria’s mouth twitched into something that almost resembled a smile. Almost.

  “I guess you need to trust that I’m a good person,” she said, sarcasm sharp enough to cut.

  Kyle snorted. “You don’t come across as a good person.”

  He wasn’t insulting her. He was observing.

  Maria tilted her head. “Kyle, do you think you’re a good person?”

  Kyle didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  The certainty startled her more than anger ever could.

  “I am a good person,” Kyle repeated, voice firm. “I chose to believe.”

  Maria let the words settle. Then she asked softly, “How… when you’ve killed so many people?”

  Kyle’s eyes didn’t flinch. “Who said killing people is wrong?”

  Maria stared at him, disgust and confusion twisting together.

  “What do you mean? It doesn’t feel right.”

  “It does,” Kyle said, almost calm. “That’s why you’re here with us, against the world order. Not all lives matter, Maria.”

  He leaned back slightly, eyes dark. “God is an accomplice. So this is my justice.”

  Maria’s pulse pounded in her ears.

  “You know you killed innocent people,” she said.

  Kyle watched her like he was weighing her. “Revolution and freedom come with a heavy bill,” he said. “You don’t believe in all of this. I know.”

  Maria took a slow breath. “You scare me, Kyle.”

  A flicker crossed his face—something like regret, quickly buried.

  He stood and took a step toward her.

  Maria didn’t step back. She forced herself to stay still.

  Kyle stopped at a respectful distance, as if he were physically holding himself back.

  “I’m kidding,” he said, voice lower now. “I do think you’re a good person.”

  Maria searched his eyes.

  His voice had tension in it—like he was holding too many emotions behind his ribs and didn’t know where to put them.

  Maria looked away first. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

  She hated that this was the safest she had felt in a long time.

  She hated that she needed it.

  She hated that she could use it.

  Kyle’s presence was steady. No hands grabbing her collar. No threats about islands and invasion. No invisible leash tightening around her neck.

  No master.

  Just a man who believed too fiercely.

  Maria’s throat tightened.

  She stepped forward, slow.

  Kyle stiffened, surprised.

  Then Maria closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him. She wanted him for a second.

  Kyle froze at first—like he didn’t trust the feeling.

  Her cheek pressed against his chest. Warm. Real. Human.

  It almost broke her. Her body felt his erection.

  “Kyle,” she whispered.

  He exhaled, careful. “What?”

  “Kyle, help me… please.” Her voice cracked. “Yes. I’m indeed a bad person.”

  Kyle’s hands hovered in the air for a second, uncertain. Then he placed one hand lightly on her back, not possessive, not demanding—just there.

  “Are you asking for help for real?” he asked.

  Maria swallowed.

  “Yes.”

  Kyle’s voice softened. “Then—”

  Maria’s fingers shifted.

  Slowly. Carefully.

  Her hand slid beneath her jacket, where cold metal waited like a secret.

  Kyle didn’t notice. His trust was a door opening.

  Maria pressed closer, as if seeking comfort, as if begging to be saved.

  Her palm wrapped around the grip.

  She lifted her head.

  Their eyes met.

  "Kyle give it to me"

  Kyle’s expression was open—unarmed.

  Maria felt something inside her twist.

  For a heartbeat, she almost stopped.

  For a heartbeat, she almost chose a different life.

  Then she remembered the threat.

  Her homeland.

  The message carved into her fate:

  Obey, or your people burn.

  Her voice came out like a breath. “I’m sorry.”

  Kyle blinked. Confused.

  The gun rose between them.

  The first shot erupted.

  Kyle’s body jerked. His face—shock, pain.

  Maria didn’t let herself think.

  The second shot followed, louder in her skull than in the room.

  Kyle staggered backward, one hand clamping over his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, dark as the sea.

  Maria stood frozen with the gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel.

  “Kyle,” she said quietly, voice trembling, “thank you for trusting me.”

  Kyle’s eyes narrowed. Not hatred yet.

  Understanding.

  He breathed through pain like it was an old friend. “Finish me off,” he said, voice low and steady, “or you’ll regret this forever.”

  Maria’s laugh burst out—wrong, sharp, almost hysterical. “I regret every breath I take,” she said. “So what will your punishment be?”

  Kyle’s jaw clenched. “Put it this way,” he said, voice turning cold, “all you’ve endured is nothing compared to what I will do to you when I catch you.”

  He took a step forward—still standing, still tall, even bleeding.

  Maria’s stomach dropped.

  Two bullets should have ended him.

  They didn’t.

  Kyle lifted his hand and threw something small across the room with brutal force.

  A key.

  It struck Maria’s wrist. Pain shot up her arm. Her grip failed. The gun flew from her hand and skidded across the floor.

  Kyle exhaled, dizzy now, but still moving.

  “You used up your chances,” he said.

  Fear finally entered Maria’s body like poison—cold and fast.

  He was still coming.

  “Are you scared now?” Kyle asked.

  Maria swallowed hard. Her voice came out steady only because she had practiced being steady all her life.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, I am.”

  Kyle’s breathing turned rough. His eyes stayed locked on her. “The revolutionary army,” Maria said, voice low, “is nothing different from the world government.”

  Kyle’s gaze sharpened. “That explains everything,” he muttered, swaying. “Then you work for them.”

  Maria’s mouth curled. “Work for them?” she echoed. “I belong to them.”

  Kyle’s eyes widened slightly.

  Not pity.

  Disgust.

  Realization.

  “That’s… why you’re here,” Kyle whispered, dizzy. “You were never one of us.”

  Maria didn’t answer.

  Because if she answered, she might start confessing.

  And if she confessed, she might become human again.

  And being human was a luxury she could not afford.

  Kyle took another step—and his knees buckled.

  He caught himself on the table, blood dripping onto the wood.

  Maria didn’t wait.

  She lunged for the fallen gun, grabbed it, and sprinted toward the back door.

  Kyle’s voice followed her, broken but deadly.

  “Run,” he rasped. “Run far. I will find you.”

  Maria burst into the cold outside air.

  The sea slapped the shore below like applause.

  She ran down the steps, boots hitting stone, heart hammering.

  Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded—low, warning. Or maybe it was just her imagination.

  She didn’t look back.

  She didn’t allow herself.

  Because if she looked back, she might see Kyle crawling after her like a curse.

  Because if she looked back, she might remember Noor’s tears.

  And if she remembered Noor’s tears, she might stop.

  Maria ran until the building vanished behind the trees.

  Only then did she slow—just enough to breathe.

  Her lungs burned.

  Her hands shook.

  And beneath the shaking, beneath the fear, beneath the guilt, one thought stayed sharp as a knife:

  I have to finish the mission.

  Not for the revolution.

  Not for the world.

  For her island.

  For the people who would pay for her disobedience.

  She pressed her forehead against a cold wall in an alley near the port and forced herself to think.

  A name rose in her mind like a lifeline and a threat.

  Sarah.

  The girl from the academy.

  The one who owed her nothing—yet knew too much.

  If Maria was going to survive what came next, she needed someone who could help her disappear.

  And if Kyle lived…

  Maria closed her eyes.

  If Kyle lived, the world would become smaller and crueler.

  She pushed off the wall and stepped into the streets, blending into the crowd like a shadow pretending to be a person.