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Elie

T he world shook when she was gone. I felt it from 2,847.5 miles away.

I’d run through Amaia’s route every day for the last three months, committing every turn, landmark, and detour to memory. I could make the journey myself with my eyes closed, hands tied behind my back. But now … now, it didn’t matter.

Time stood still inside the bunker. It was as they all knew it too. Forty-thousand people underground, and you could hear a pin drop—but I was the only one with the bond to feel the loss. Harley and Suckerpunch could only whimper at my feet in supportive despair.

This place was a tomb carved into the earth. It’d been our entire world for months. The harsh hum of the air filtration system never ceased, and the low, constant buzz of chatter filled the background. It wasn’t a home, it was a fortress. Every corridor was the same—gray, harsh, and functional. No amount of repurposing of spaces and makeshift homes from abandoned storage bays could create a pocket of warmth.

My seventeenth birthday came and went inside this steel, cold cage. Three months since I’d seen consistent sunlight aside from what trickled through the cracks of the door during weekly rotations of soldiers swapping from inside to out.

Rex was out there somewhere along the coast—stationed with the remnants of our navy. I hadn’t seen him since the bunker doors shut the day the troops left. The only trace of him came during shift changes—letters slipped into my hand from Caleb like contraband.

No letters had ever come from Amaia. Not that it was possible. I didn’t need them, not when I could feel her in here . In my soul. Guilt ate at me day in and day out for the time I’d wasted on punishing her for things outside of her control. Every choice she made was calculated, every step deliberate. I wanted to be like that—strong enough to carry the weight of the world without breaking.

The thought of her gone didn’t just feel wrong; it felt impossible . Amaia didn’t lose. She couldn’t.

Still, I couldn’t stop watching the door, willing it to open and prove me wrong.

A gentle hand rested on my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts. Luna.

“What’s wrong?” Yasmin’s voice followed, her hands absently rubbing her rounded belly.

I glanced between them, words catching in my throat. How could I explain something I didn’t fully understand? And yet, deep down, I knew. There had been a release from within my chest, an untying of a small fishers knot, that offered a sense of permanent absence. “The world just got a whole lot darker.”

Caleb rounded the corner, his floppy blond hair bounced as he walked. His poker face was terrible. Something was happening, and it had nothing to do with Amaia—or maybe it did.

“Ronan’s dead,” he said, voice heavy with disbelief.

Luna’s posture faltered beside me. “She did it …” she whispered.

“How can you be sure?” Yasmin’s voice cracked as she spoke, her arms wrapping protectively around her stomach. “Is Riley …”

“I don’t have that detailed of a report.” Caleb hesitated as to not upset the pregnant woman. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Our walls are under siege again—his troops are retaliating.”

“Amaia is dead too.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I turned to face them, my stomach twisting into a knot I couldn’t untangle.

“What?” Yasmin’s voice sliced through the air, trembling. But her worry wasn’t for Amaia. It was for Riley. It was always Riley.

“Oh, please,” I snapped, unable to hold it in. “Don’t pretend you care.”

“Don’t say that,” Luna said, her hands motioning to settle down.

“There’s no word on Amaia,” Caleb tried to reason, his voice almost pleading. But I didn’t want to hear it. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She’s gone.” My hand pressed against my chest, to the spot where something had unraveled, slipping beyond my grasp. The room sank into an oppressive stillness, the kind that constricted around my lungs.

Emma sprinted down the hall, caked in dirt, her heavy footsteps echoed. I groaned—there goes our cover.

Hal emerged from the shadows, his hand snapping out to grab her with a force that made her stumble. “What did I tell you about sneaking out?”

“Ow,” Emma yelped, feigning pain. “Stop, that hurts. Hey!”

Hal dragged her toward us, his face hard as stone. “This has to stop.” His eyes locked onto mine, fueled with accusation. “Sending her out there like this. It’s reckless. She could die.”

“Emma can take care of herself,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “You did a good job teaching her.” Not to mention, she was the one who could fit through the ? —

“What did you do?” Luna’s voice was ice, her usual warmth gone. “Eleanor.”

Emma grinned, completely unfazed. “We took care of it.”

“Took care of what ?” Caleb asked, his voice rising.

“They want to act like animals,” I said before Emma could answer. “If they try to breach these walls, they’ll be slaughtered like them.”

The bunker shook, the deep rumble of an explosion reverberating through the walls. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and I felt a grim satisfaction settle in my chest.

“Eleanor,” Luna’s voice cracked, desperate for a response. “What did you do?”

“What they taught me to,” I smiled—a sharp, cold thing—and walked deeper into the heart of the bunker.