The rain hadn't stopped.
It fell in thin, cold sheets over the ruined city, turning ash into mud and silence into a whisper.
Inside an abandoned safe house, the two spies faced each other again. The lamplight flickered between them, stretching their shadows long and sharp across the cracked walls.
He—the man who wasn't Kael anymore—sat at a table littered with maps and coded notes.
Across from him, the other spy leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his dark coat dripping from the rain.
Neither spoke.
The air between them was thick—not just with suspicion, but something deeper. Recognition that had no memory to explain it.
Finally, the man at the table broke the silence.
"You still haven't told me your name."
The other raised an eyebrow. "Neither have you."
He hesitated. Then said, "Call me Ash."
The spy across the room smirked faintly. "Then I'll be Vernon."
Their eyes met. Two lies, offered like handshakes.
Ash pushed a file across the table. The edges were torn, the papers inside water-stained. "Our orders. There's a shipment moving through the eastern border tomorrow. If it reaches their hands, the war shifts."
Vernon flipped through the pages, scanning them fast. "So we're working together now?"
"Only because command insists," Ash said. "I don't like it any more than you do."
Vernon chuckled softly, a low sound that made the room feel smaller. "You don't like anything."
Ash's eyes narrowed. "And you talk too much."
But Vernon only smiled, pushing off the wall and walking closer. "Maybe that's why they paired us. You need someone to remind you there's still a world outside your gun."
Ash looked away, jaw tight. "You don't know me."
"Not yet," Vernon murmured.
The words lingered.
They left at dawn.
The city was still sleeping under the smoke of war, its streets littered with the ghosts of the night before. They moved like shadows through alleys and rooftops, every step measured.
Ash led the way. Vernon followed a few paces behind, his gaze sharp, noting everything—the tilt of Ash's shoulders, the way his fingers brushed the trigger of his pistol like it was part of his heartbeat.
They didn't talk. They didn't need to. Their rhythm was quiet and practiced, even though they'd never done this together before.
At the checkpoint, Vernon took down a guard without a sound—knife to the throat, quick, efficient. Ash caught the body before it hit the ground.
He didn't say thank you, but his glance said enough.
As they moved through the border ruins, Vernon spoke, his voice barely above the rain. "You fight like someone who's already lost everything."
Ash stiffened but didn't reply.
"And you," Ash said finally, "talk like someone who's trying to forget he's next."
Vernon's smirk faltered for the first time. "Maybe we're both right."
For a while, they walked in silence again.
They reached the convoy at sunset. Trucks loaded with ammunition and files stood under a metal overpass, soldiers smoking and laughing beside the engines.
Ash crouched behind a wrecked car, binoculars in hand. "Six guards. Three trucks. We take out the driver first. Then the radio."
Vernon knelt beside him, close enough for their shoulders to brush. "And if things go wrong?"
Ash looked at him. "They always do."
Vernon's smile returned—small, genuine this time. "Then I'll cover you."
They moved as one.
The first guard dropped before he could shout. The next was silenced by Vernon's blade. Ash sprinted forward, shooting the driver cleanly through the window.
But luck never lasted long.
A soldier turned at the wrong moment, shouted—"Enemy!"—and chaos erupted.
Gunfire lit up the dusk. Bullets tore through crates, glass shattered. Ash ducked behind a truck, returning fire. Vernon leapt onto the flatbed, kicking an enemy off before taking another down with a swift strike.
"Ash, move!" Vernon yelled.
Ash turned—and saw a grenade rolling toward him.
Vernon didn't think. He jumped.
The explosion ripped through the air. The shockwave threw them both against the ground, dust and smoke swallowing the world.
When Ash opened his eyes, his ears were ringing. The convoy burned in front of him, flames licking the night sky. He crawled through debris, coughing, searching—
Then he saw him.
Vernon, lying a few feet away, bleeding from a cut across his temple but breathing.
Ash dragged himself over and checked his pulse. Relief hit so hard it hurt.
Vernon groaned, blinking up at him. "You're heavy," he muttered.
Ash almost laughed. "You jumped on a grenade for me."
"Yeah," Vernon whispered, eyes half-lidded. "Don't make me regret it."
Ash hesitated, then pressed a hand to his shoulder, grounding him. "I won't."
Their eyes met again, the world burning around them, and something inside them too.
Later that night, they made it to another safe house—a half-broken church at the edge of the city. The ceiling had caved in, moonlight streaming through the gaps.
Vernon sat on the steps, shirt half-open, blood still streaked down his face. Ash cleaned the wound with what little water they had.
"You're quiet," Vernon said softly. "Even quieter than before."
Ash didn't look up. "You almost died."
"I've done worse."
"You shouldn't have done it."
Vernon's eyes softened. "Maybe not. But I couldn't watch you burn."
The words hung in the cold air.
Ash's fingers stilled. Slowly, he looked up, meeting Vernon's gaze.
For a moment, there was no war, no mission, no orders. Just the sound of rain dripping through the roof, the flicker of firelight on old stone.
Then Vernon spoke again, barely a whisper. "You're not like them, are you?"
Ash frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The soldiers. The ones who kill because they're told to. You hesitate. You still look at the dead like they mean something."
Ash didn't reply. He didn't have to.
Vernon smiled faintly. "That's why I jumped."
Ash stood, trying to mask the turmoil twisting in his chest. "Get some rest. We move before dawn."
He turned away, but Vernon's voice followed him, quiet and certain.
"You can lie all you want, Ash. But one day, you'll have to admit it—you don't hate me as much as you think."
Ash froze for half a second before walking into the shadows.
Outside, the city burned in the distance, its light reflecting in Ash's eyes. He could still feel Vernon's words echoing inside him, unsettling everything he thought he knew.
Enemies.
Partners.
Something else entirely.
The world around them was made of secrets and war. But that night, in the silence between two breaths, something had changed.