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“Almost there,” I gasped.

We burst out of the tunnel just as the final collapse roared behind us, a wave of dust and debris billowing into the open.

Jude staggered to a stop, bending over with her hands on her knees, gulping in deep breaths.

I stood beside her, scanning the landscape with sharp, wary eyes.

We emerged onto the edge of a valley—wild, windswept, and treacherous. In the distance, movement caught my eye: a line of riders, kicking up dust as they patrolled the far ridge.

“We’ve got company,” I said grimly.

Jude followed my gaze and swore under her breath. “Soldiers. Or worse,” she said.

“Come on,” I said, touching her shoulder lightly. “We need to keep moving.”

We headed for the cover of the rocky hills, sticking to the shadows, every step pulling us further from the ruins and deeper into whatever came next.

As we moved, Jude cast a quick glance at me.

I caught her looking, but said nothing—just offered the faintest smile.

And for the first time, since I met her, Jude let herself smile back.

Just a little.

We didn’t stop movinguntil the riders were distant shadows against the setting sun. Only then did I lead Jude into a narrow cleft between two cliffs, hidden from sight.

“We can rest here,” I said, setting my pack down. “Just for a little while.”

Jude dropped heavily onto a flat rock. I knew she had to be hurting, and her throat must be dry. I offered her a canteen without a word. She hesitated, then accepted it, taking a long drink.

We sat silently for a few minutes, the exhaustion and adrenaline weighing down every breath.

“Why did you come after me?” Jude asked finally, her voice low.

I leaned back against the stone, arms loosely crossed over my chest. “Because you didn’t deserve to be out here alone.”

Jude stared at the ground. “I made my choice.”

“That doesn’t mean it was the right one,” I said.

She looked up sharply, ready to argue, but my gaze was calm, steady.

“You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, Jude,” I said. “Not anymore.”

I knew my words hit something deep inside her, raw and aching. I saw it in her eyes. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the valley. In the growing twilight, I shifted closer, not quitetouching her but close enough that she could feel my presence like a shield.

“We’ll move again when it’s dark,” I said quietly. “We’ll find a place to camp.”

Jude nodded, the simple plan anchoring her.

I could tell for now, she allowed herself a rare moment of peace.

And beside her, I kept silent, a promise that she could trust me. She wasn’t ready to trust—but maybe, just maybe, she wanted to try.

We walkedfor hours before finding shelter—an old, abandoned shack wedged into the side of a cliff, half-hidden by creeping vines and broken stone. It wasn’t much, but it was dry, and it was ours for now.