Chapter 20

  I don’t trust her.

  She walks in like she belongs here, like she’s been in the fight as long as the rest of us. Like she wasn’t living in some perfect world before everything went to hell. It’s in the way she moves, too smooth, too deliberate. People like her don’t end up underground, not unless they have to. Not unless they’re running from something. Or worse, working for someone.

  Danny vouches for her. Says she’s smart, resourceful, that she can help. That we need her. And everyone just nods along because when Danny speaks, people listen. But I watch her. Every time she talks, I see the way she measures her words. The way her eyes scan the room, taking everything in, cataloging. She’s calculating. I know that look. I used to have it myself when I first joined. Except I was looking for safety. She’s looking for something else.

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  She’s too clean. That’s what really gets me. Hands without scars, face without the kind of lines that come from worry, from running, from losing. Her clothes are practical, sure, but not worn, not like the rest of ours. She didn’t build her life around survival. She walked into it because she had no other choice. Or so she says.

  And then there’s Danny. I’ve never seen him like this. He leans in when she speaks, listens like every word is something precious, something meant for him alone. It makes my stomach twist in ways I don’t want to admit. I don’t care about him like that. At least, I don’t think I do. But it bothers me. The way he looks at her. The way he trusts her.

  I’ve been here since the beginning. Since before we even knew what we were fighting for, when we just knew we had to fight. I’ve lost people. Friends. Family. I’ve spent nights hiding, waiting for the wrong boots to come crashing through the door. I’ve bled for this. She hasn’t.

  She talks a lot about strategy. Says we need to be smarter, that the government is watching us more closely now, that we have to adapt. She’s not wrong, but that’s what makes it worse. She sounds like someone who knows. Someone who’s been on the other side. Someone who’s worked against people like us before. I don’t like it.

  I keep my distance. I smile when she looks at me. I nod when she talks. But I watch her. She hasn’t made a mistake yet, but she will. They always do. And when she does, I’ll be ready.