Dylan looked at her — really looked — and found himself smiling again despite everything. "Remind me never to underestimate you."
"You already did," she said. "But I'll let it slide."
He shook his head, amused, then glanced toward the horizon where the moonlight began to thin. The night felt endless, yet the smallest sliver of dawn painted the sky in pale gray.
"Sasha," he said quietly.
"Hm?"
"If we make it out of here alive…"
"When," she corrected firmly.
He smiled faintly. "When we make it out… maybe you can share your travels with me? I want to hear what's in the south."
Sasha chuckled. "I can tell you now."
In Dylan's eyes, Sasha seemed to glow beneath the moonlight — her hair catching silver, her skin kissed by its soft shimmer. For a fleeting moment, she didn't look like a survivor at all, but something otherworldly. A goddess born of chaos.
