The rain had not stopped since morning. It clung to the windows like ghosts pressing to be let in, streaking the glass in silver veins. Inside the cabin, the air smelled of wet earth and gunpowder. The fire Kai managed to build hissed each time the water from his jacket dripped onto the logs.
Ezra sat on the floor, back against the wall, knees drawn to his chest. His eyes were fixed on the flames, though his mind was miles away — in the city they had fled, in the chaos, in the blood he could still smell on his hands no matter how much he scrubbed.
Kai stood by the window, motionless as always, gaze trained on the tree line. His posture screamed discipline — alert, prepared, but calm in a way that unnerved Ezra. Every line of that man spoke of control, even when the world outside was unraveling.
Jace was the only one pretending to be unfazed. He sprawled on the couch with his boots on the armrest, twirling a knife between his fingers. "You know," he said, voice lazy, "it's kinda romantic, the three of us hiding out here in the woods. Like a twisted honeymoon."
Ezra shot him a glare. "You're disgusting."
Jace grinned. "And yet, you keep sitting close enough to hear me."
Kai turned away from the window, eyes narrowing. "Enough." His tone didn't rise, but it carried weight — the kind that silenced a room.
Jace rolled his eyes but sheathed his knife. "You're no fun, boss."
Kai ignored him, crossing the room to the fire. He crouched beside it, adding another log, the glow throwing gold across his sharp features. For a moment, Ezra caught the faintest trace of exhaustion in his eyes — something human beneath the armor. But it vanished just as quickly.
"Any word from Mara?" Ezra asked quietly.
Kai shook his head. "No signal. The storm cut communications again."
Ezra frowned. "She'll be worried."
"She can handle herself," Kai said simply, though his tone softened almost imperceptibly.
Jace snorted. "You really think she's the worrying type? The woman set a man's car on fire for parking in her spot."
Ezra cracked a weak smile despite himself. "Yeah, that sounds like her."
The fire popped, scattering embers. For a few seconds, the only sound was the rain and the low hum of the flame. Then, Kai said suddenly, "We move at dawn."
Ezra's head lifted. "To where?"
"East," Kai replied. "There's an abandoned airstrip near the border. If we're lucky, we can get a flight out before they find us again."
"And if we're not lucky?" Jace asked.
Kai's eyes didn't waver. "Then we make our stand there."
Jace gave a low whistle. "You make everything sound so dramatic."
But Ezra's pulse quickened. "What if we don't make it?"
Kai looked at him — really looked — and the world seemed to slow. "Then you fight," he said, voice steady. "You've done it before. You can do it again."
Ezra wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that the strength Kai saw in him actually existed. But deep down, he felt hollow — like a mirror that only reflected what people wanted to see.
When night settled again, Jace took first watch. Kai disappeared into the adjoining room, claiming he needed to check supplies. Ezra remained by the fire, staring at the flickering shadows crawling up the walls.
He didn't notice Kai return until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, heart pounding.
"Relax," Kai said quietly.
Ezra let out a shaky breath. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."
Kai's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "If I can sneak up on you, they can too. Stay alert."
Ezra turned his face toward the flames. "You really think we'll get out of this?"
Kai didn't answer right away. He crouched beside him again, the light carving sharp edges along his jawline. "I think survival is about will, not chance."
Ezra huffed softly. "Easy for you to say. You were built for this. You don't… feel fear like the rest of us."
Something flickered across Kai's eyes — not offense, not anger, but something deeper. "You think I don't feel fear?"
Ezra hesitated. "Do you?"
Kai's voice dropped. "Every time I see you hesitate with a gun, I feel it. Every time I imagine losing someone under my watch, I feel it. Fear keeps me awake, Ezra. But it also keeps me alive."
Ezra's throat tightened. He didn't know what to say to that. The silence between them stretched — tense, intimate, like a thread pulled too tight.
Kai reached out suddenly, fingertips brushing against Ezra's jaw. It was an impulsive gesture — unplanned, dangerous. Ezra froze, breath catching.
"You've got blood on your mind," Kai murmured, thumb grazing a faint scar along Ezra's cheek. "But none on your hands tonight. Remember that."
Ezra met his gaze, and for the first time, he saw something in Kai that wasn't cold calculation — warmth, restrained but real. It terrified him more than any bullet ever could.
"I don't know if I can keep doing this," Ezra whispered.
Kai leaned closer, voice barely audible. "You don't have to be perfect. You just have to survive."
Ezra swallowed hard. "And what about you?"
Kai's lips curved faintly. "I'll survive as long as you do."
It wasn't a promise. It was a confession disguised as resolve.
Before Ezra could reply, Jace's voice cut through the quiet from the doorway. "Well, isn't this cozy?"
Ezra flinched back, guilt flushing his face. Kai straightened instantly, mask slipping back into place.
Jace smirked, eyes glinting. "Didn't mean to interrupt your little fireside therapy session. Just thought you'd wanna know — someone's out there."
Kai's hand went immediately to his weapon. "How many?"
"One. Maybe two," Jace said. "Can't tell through the rain, but they're moving slow. Careful."
Ezra stood, pulse spiking. "You think they found us?"
Kai nodded once. "Get ready."
They moved like a machine — silent, efficient. Kai took the front door, Jace circled to the back, and Ezra crouched by the window, gun trembling in his grip. The rain masked footsteps, thunder masking breath.
A flash of movement — a silhouette between trees. Ezra's heart leapt. "Kai—"
"I see it," Kai muttered. He signaled with two fingers. "On my mark."
But before the signal came, a voice called out through the storm.
"Don't shoot!"
They froze.
A figure stumbled into the clearing — soaked, limping, but familiar.
"Mara," Kai breathed.
Ezra exhaled in disbelief. She looked like she'd been through hell — mud streaked across her face, a gash on her temple, and eyes sharp despite exhaustion.
"Good to see you too," she rasped, collapsing against the doorframe.
Ezra rushed to help her in while Kai covered them, eyes still scanning the dark. Once she was safely inside, Mara dropped her soaked backpack onto the floor.
"They're closing in," she said, voice hoarse. "About a dozen, maybe more. You've got hours — if that."
Jace swore softly. "So much for sleeping tonight."
Kai's jaw tightened. "We move now."
Ezra's eyes widened. "But the rain—"
"Will cover our tracks," Kai interrupted. "Pack light. Leave anything you can't carry."
Mara leaned back against the wall, catching her breath. "You've got one problem, Kai. They've got dogs."
The room fell silent. Even Jace stopped moving.
Ezra's stomach dropped. "Dogs? You mean—"
"They'll track scent through the rain," Kai finished grimly. "Then we give them a trail they'll regret following."
Jace grinned darkly. "Now you're talking."
As they gathered weapons and supplies, Ezra caught Kai's eye again. The storm howled outside, wind shaking the walls. But for a fleeting moment, it was just the two of them — warriors in the same fire, hearts beating to the same unspoken rhythm.
"Don't look so scared," Kai said softly, slinging a rifle over his shoulder.
"I'm not scared," Ezra lied.
Kai's gaze softened. "Then you're lying beautifully."
And as they stepped out into the rain — the world dark, cold, and ready to devour them — Ezra realized something terrifying. It wasn't death that scared him anymore.
It was what he'd do to survive beside Kai.