The warehouse was quiet now—just scorched metal, flickering lights, and the distant echo of sirens. The battle was won, but Caine Mercer had vanished like a ghost, leaving more questions than answers.
Lia sat on the edge of a rusted catwalk, legs dangling into the shadows below. A makeshift bandage wrapped around her shoulder—just a graze, but it still stung.
Kairo approached, limping slightly, a fresh cut across his eyebrow. He held out a steaming cup. "Stolen cocoa. Closest thing to a win tonight."
She took it, smirked. "You always bring the good stuff."
"Gotta have my uses."
They sat in silence for a moment. The kind of silence only people who'd nearly died together could share.
"Why'd you throw yourself between me and Mercer's drone?" she asked softly.
Kairo shrugged, eyes fixed on the floor. "Reflex."
"Liar."
He glanced sideways at her. "Okay. Because if something happened to you, I wouldn't survive it."
Lia blinked, caught off guard.
Not because of the words—because of the way he said them. Like it wasn't dramatic. Like it was just… true.
"You're not some sidekick, Kairo," she said, more serious now. "You've saved me more times than I've saved you."
"That's not the score I'm keeping."
Lia looked at him. Really looked. The flickering lights caught the edge of his profile—cut, tired, still bleeding, still standing.
They'd grown up in a world of shadows, but somehow… he'd become her light.
"You never asked for this," she said.
"Neither did you," he replied. "But we're in it. Side by side. That's how we stay alive."
Lia nodded slowly. Then, softly: "I'm glad it's you."
He smiled at that. "Yeah. Me too."
Above them, night blanketed the city in smoke and stars. Somewhere out there, Caine was planning his next move.
But for now, in this fragile, fleeting peace, Lia and Kairo sat close—two survivors, two weapons, two hearts slowly learning how to beat beside each other.
Not lovers.
Not yet.
But something stronger than friendship, and just as dangerous.