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I should be cold, but I’m not. Not with her beside me.

It’s been days since the incident at the Miller house—since I stood face to face with everything I once feared. We spent a few days at the inn while Roan recovered, coaxing her to rest, convincing her more than once to try my blood for a change. It seemed to speed up her recovery, even if it disgusted her.

Now we’re back on the road, between towns again, the weight of the past growing fainter with every step forward.

Roan lounges against a fallen log, one leg stretched out, the other bent just enough for her arm to rest against. Her sword lies within reach, but her fingers aren’t twitching for it like they used to. No sharp glances over her shoulder. No tension in her jaw.

Just the quiet warmth in her eyes when she glances at me.

Peace used to feel like a lie. Like something meant for someone else.

But now? Now it’s here, flickering between us like the firelight, and I can’t quite believe it.

“I heard something strange in town today,” Roan murmurs, flicking a small twig into the flames.

I lift my head from her thigh, blinking the sleep from my eyes. “What kind of strange?”

She glances down, meets my gaze. “The bounty. It’s gone.”

I sit up. “Gone?”

“Disappeared. Along with any mention of it. Posters pulled down. No one’s asking questions. It’s like it never existed.”

My breath catches. A chill skates down my spine, even as relief rushes in after it. “So… it’s really over then.”

She nods, slow and sure. “Feels like it.”

I fold my arms around my knees, staring into the fire. My mother’s face flickers in my mind—cold, sharp, unreadable. I don’t know what finally convinced her to stop. Maybe it was seeing me bleed out. Maybe it was seeing me choose. Or maybe… she just lost.

Whatever the reason, she’s not coming. I know it. I feel it.

Roan reaches for my hand, and I give it to her without hesitation. Her fingers are warm and calloused, thumb sweeping along my knuckles.

We sit like that for a long time, saying nothing. Just letting the quiet stretch between us as we watch the flames.

Then she speaks, her voice soft, like she’s afraid to break the moment. “I was thinking…” she pauses, tugging me a little closer, “maybe we find somewhere to stay. Not just for a night.”

I blink at her. “You mean… settle?”

Roan shifts slightly, gaze flicking to the fire before returning to mine. A faint blush colors her cheeks, just visible in the firelight. Her fingers drum once against her thigh, almost like she’s second-guessing herself.

A small, almost shy smile tugs at her lips. “We don’t have to grow vegetables or anything,” she says, voice quieter than usual. “Just… stop running. Build something. A place that’s ours.”

The word lands like a spark catching dry tinder.Ours.

It hits something deep inside me—something I didn’t even realize had been hollow until she filled it.

I shift to face her fully, one leg crossing over hers. “Where?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She shrugs. “Somewhere with a roof. A lock on the door. A window you can sit in when you’re feeling dramatic.”

I laugh under my breath, but my chest is tight with feeling. “You want to stay with me?”

Her brow furrows like it’s the stupidest question I’ve ever asked. “I nearly died for you, Mouse. Of course I want to stay.”

The fire pops, sending up a shower of sparks. I turn my hand in hers, threading our fingers together, grounding myself in the quiet weight of her palm.

Roan’s thumb brushes over my knuckles once, then stills. “But I need you to promise me something,” she says, her voice low, careful.