The night pressed heavy over the city.
Arya barely slept. Even with Mira breathing softly beside her on the cot, even with Kade's garage door bolted shut, the sounds outside the shouts in the distance, the growl of engines, the crack of bottles kept her on edge. She kept replaying the whistle in the woods, the ambush, Mira's trembling confession.
And Ivy. Always Ivy.
When dawn came, gray and cold, Kade gathered them around a table covered in oil-stained maps. His cigarette smoke curled through the air as he jabbed a scarred finger at the city's heart.
"You need to understand something," he said, his voice gravelly. "This city isn't just streets and buildings anymore. It's carved into territories gangs, mercenaries, scavengers, even a few old military outfits. They all have eyes and ears. You don't breathe here without someone noticing."
Arya leaned forward, her stomach knotting. "And the mercenaries?"
Kade's lips twisted into something like a sneer. "They own more than you think. Businesses, cops, informants. They've got their claws in the council itself. If you're hoping to blend in and live quiet, forget it. You'll be hunted. The only question is when they'll find you."
Mira shivered beneath her blanket. "Then what do we do?"
Kade glanced at Ivy. "That's on him. He dragged you here. He knows the score."
Ivy's face was unreadable, but his jaw tightened. "We don't hide. Not forever. We gather evidence. Allies. Enough to bring them down."
Arya blinked. "You make it sound simple."
"It isn't," Ivy said. "But it's the only way."
Kade chuckled darkly. "And how do you plan on doing that? The mercenaries eat people like you for breakfast. You want allies? You'll need to crawl into the shadows of this city. Find the people desperate or stupid—enough to fight back."
Later that day, Arya and Ivy slipped into the streets, leaving Mira in Kade's care.
The city in daylight was no kinder. Market stalls overflowed with gray produce and counterfeit goods. Children darted through alleys, hands quick as knives. Banners of rival gangs marked walls with crude paint, warning strangers where they didn't belong.
Everywhere Arya looked, she felt eyes on her. Watching. Weighing.
"Where are we going?" she whispered.
Ivy scanned the street before answering. "To someone I knew. Back before the war burned everything."
Arya's throat tightened. She realized she knew almost nothing about Ivy. He was a shadow with sharp edges, a weapon always ready but behind that? A man she didn't understand.
And yet, she wanted to.
They reached a narrow stairwell descending into the earth. Ivy knocked on a rusted door at the bottom in another coded rhythm. After a long pause, the door creaked open.
Inside was a dim underground tavern, lit only by oil lamps. Men and women hunched over tables, their voices low, their faces hard. A smell of smoke and metal filled the air.
A woman approached, tall and lean, her dark hair braided down her back. A scar cut across her cheek, but her smile was sharp.
"Well, well," she drawled. "If it isn't Ivy. I thought you were dead."
"Not yet," Ivy said.
The woman's gaze flicked to Arya, assessing her with a predator's patience. "And who's this?"
"My partner," Ivy said without hesitation.
Arya stiffened. Partner. The word was both protection and a spark that lit her cheeks with heat.
The woman smirked. "You always had good taste." She gestured toward a table. "Sit. Let's see what trouble you've dragged to my door this time."
Her name was Serah, leader of a small network of smugglers and informants who survived by playing both sides. As they spoke, Arya listened closely, trying to piece together the puzzle of Ivy's past.
Serah poured them weak liquor and leaned back in her chair. "You want information on the mercenaries? You'll get it. But nothing's free. I need something first."
Ivy's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"There's a shipment they're guarding. Weapons, medicine. It's moving through the east docks tomorrow night. You help me steal it, and I'll give you names. Places. Enough to start your little crusade."
Arya's stomach dropped. It sounded suicidal. But when she glanced at Ivy, she saw the fire in his eyes the same fire she'd seen in the woods.
He would do it.
And for the first time, Arya realized she would too.
That night, back at Kade's garage, Arya found herself pacing again. The weight of what they were about to do pressed down on her chest.
Ivy leaned against the workbench, sharpening his blade with steady strokes. "You're restless."
She turned on him. "Of course I'm restless! We barely survived the forest, and now you want us to walk straight into a mercenary shipment? Do you even care if we live through this?"
His hand stilled. Slowly, he raised his gaze to hers. "Every decision I make is to keep us alive."
"Us," she repeated softly.
The word hung between them like a thread pulled tight. For a moment, the world outside didn't exist the danger, the mercenaries, even Mira's shadow of betrayal. It was just the two of them, breathing the same heavy air.
Then Ivy looked away, his voice low. "Get some rest, Arya. Tomorrow… everything changes."