The chaos of Scrap Corner faded fast behind them, swallowed whole by the Wasteland's cold night silence. Only the faint crunch of gravel under their boots and the distant, lonely cry of a night predator cut through the dark. Aris led the way, moving low and quick between collapsed buildings, her senses sharp enough to pick out even the smallest shift in the shadows.
Kael followed half a step behind, no longer bound, no longer slouched like a prisoner. He moved like a soldier—alert, balanced, eyes constantly sweeping the ruins for threats. The gun he'd taken now rested in Aris's waistband, heavy and reassuring. For someone who'd spent her whole life relying only on a knife and her own two hands, the weight of real firepower was disturbingly comforting.
She refused to think about why she trusted him enough to keep him at her back.
Feelings were liabilities.
Trust was a scam.
And he was still, technically, salvage.
"You've been quiet for ten whole minutes," Kael said suddenly, his voice low enough not to carry. "Did you finally run out of things to insult me with?"
Aris glanced over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. "I'm concentrating. If we walk into a nest of raiders or a pack of coyotes because I was busy insulting you, I'm blaming you. And I'm selling you to the coyotes. They eat expensive warlords, right?"
"Charming as always," he deadpanned.
They walked in silence again for a while, the sky turning from deep indigo to inky black, stars bright and cold above. Aris's legs ached, her throat was dry, and her mood was getting fouler by the second.
She'd been so close.
So close to water, food, ammunition, and coins.
So close to a real, proper payday.
And now she was back to running, hiding, and surviving on nothing but luck and stubbornness.
All because of the man walking beside her.
"This is all your fault," she muttered, more to herself than to him.
"My fault?" Kael repeated, sounding genuinely confused. "I was the one who crashed, betrayed, and hunted. You're the one who decided to tie me up and try to sell me."
"If you hadn't crashed into my salvage route, I wouldn't have had to tie you up," Aris shot back. "If you hadn't been such a popular warlord, I wouldn't have lost my market. If you were just a regular, boring scavenger, I'd be counting my coins right now instead of running for my life."
Kael stared at her. "You're blaming me for being betrayed?"
"I'm blaming you for being bad for business," Aris corrected. "You're the most high-maintenance salvage I've ever picked up. I should've left you under the rubble."
"But you didn't," he pointed out.
Aris froze.
For half a second, she had no snappy comeback.
No sarcastic remark.
No business-focused excuse.
She didn't leave him.
She could have.
She should have.
But she hadn't.
She quickly recovered, shoving the weird, soft thought into the deepest, darkest corner of her mind. "Only because you were worth more alive. Don't get heroic ideas about it."
Kael's lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. "Of course. Profit. Always profit."
"Exactly," Aris said firmly.
She finally slowed to a stop, ducking into the shadow of a half-collapsed concrete tower. It was sheltered, hidden, and high enough to keep an eye on anyone approaching. Perfect for a quick rest.
"We stop here for an hour," she said, dropping her backpack to the ground. "Just long enough to drink a little water and stop walking. If we keep pushing, we'll be too tired to run when the raiders show up."
Kael nodded, leaning against the rough wall, his gaze still fixed on the darkness. Even resting, he looked ready to fight at a second's notice.
Aris rummaged in her bag and pulled out her dented canteen, taking a tiny, miserly sip. She held it out to Kael, her expression carefully neutral.
"Only two sips," she warned. "Water's still more important than your pride. And I'm still not doing this because I like you. I'm doing this because tired bodyguards are bad bodyguards."
"Naturally," Kael said, taking the canteen. He drank exactly two small sips before handing it back, no complaints, no arguments.
Aris was mildly impressed.
She'd expected at least a little protesting.
She sat down on a relatively flat piece of rubble, stretching her legs, and stared out at the dark Wasteland. For the first time all day, she allowed herself to relax—just a little.
"So what now?" Kael asked quietly.
Aris blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Your plan was to sell me," he said. "That plan failed. Twice. What's the new plan?"
Aris thought for a moment, weighing her options.
She could try another market.
But the raiders were hunting him.
Every market they went to would just turn into another disaster.
She could leave him.
But he was still worth a fortune.
And he was a surprisingly good bodyguard.
She could keep him.
But keeping him meant dealing with his warlord problems, his traitor enemies, and his constant dramatic glaring.
None of the options were perfect.
None of them were easy.
None of them guaranteed profit.
Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes sharp and decisive.
"New plan," she announced. "We stick together. You're still my temporary bodyguard. You fight. You carry heavy things. You keep me alive. In return, I don't leave you for raiders, I give you water, and I don't sell you… for now."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "For now?"
"Until I find a safe enough place to sell you without getting shot," Aris clarified. "Or until you become too much trouble. Whichever comes first."
He stared at her for a long moment, golden eyes unreadable. "You're really still planning to sell me."
"Of course I am," Aris said like it was obvious. "You're valuable. Valuable things get sold. That's how the Wasteland works."
Kael's lips curved into a faint, amused smirk. "We'll see about that, scavenger."
Aris huffed, crossing her arms. "Don't get cocky. I'm very good at selling things."
"I'm sure you are," he said, his tone entirely too patronizing.
Aris opened her mouth to snap back a retort, but a faint, distant sound cut her off—faint, but familiar.
Engines.
Far away, but getting closer.
Her blood ran cold.
"They're still following us," she whispered, standing up in one smooth movement, hand already going to the gun at her waist.
Kael's expression turned sharp, all amusement gone in an instant. "How?"
"I don't know," Aris snapped. "But they're not giving up. We can't stay here. We move. Now."
She slung her backpack over her shoulders, already turning toward the deeper, darker part of the ruins.
Kael fell into step beside her, his voice low and serious.
"Aris."
She glanced at him, irritable and on edge. "What?"
For a split second, his usual arrogance faded, replaced by something raw and honest.
"I won't let them hurt you," he said.
Aris froze.
No one had ever said that to her.
No one had ever promised to keep her safe.
No one had ever cared.
She quickly recovered, her sharp, sarcastic mask sliding back into place.
"Better not," she said, starting to walk again, faster this time. "If I die, who'll sell you? Now hurry up. My least favorite salvage is slowing me down."
Kael smiled faintly, falling into step behind her.
Somewhere in the dark, the engines grew closer.
But for the first time since she'd found him half-buried in the rubble, Aris wasn't entirely scared.
She had a bodyguard.
A dangerous, annoying, priceless bodyguard.
And she was still going to sell him.
Probably.