Page 48

Ziva

With the adrenaline fading and a joint decision made about Dr. Vance, I finally have a moment to reflect on what has been gnawing at me since Arden was taken. The others begin integrating Dr. Vance into our operations, their voices a low murmur in the cramped storage room.

I find myself drawn to Myall, leaning against the shelf, his figure silhouetted against the dim light. When he meets my gaze, a rush of heat floods my cheeks. My breath catches, sharp and shallow—my body recognizing something my mind still refuses to admit.

A flutter of nerves knot in my stomach, and the warmth from his steady stare feels like an unspoken invitation. I gesture for him to join me in the shadows, craving the privacy that feels almost sacred in this moment.

“We need to talk,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly against the backdrop of their chatter. His green eyes lock onto mine, understanding flickering in their depths like a distant flame.

“I might know a place,” he murmurs, a teasing glint in his eye that makes my pulse quicken.

I raise an eyebrow. “How do we ditch the others?”

His hand closes around mine, warmth radiating from his touch, a stark contrast to the cold of the storage room. My eyes flick to Arden, who catches my gaze with a knowing glance. A rush of heat floods my cheeks.

Myall begins leading me from the room and we slip out of the storage room unnoticed by all except Arden. The heavy, metallic scent of the factory lingers, but as soon as we step into the cool twilight air, it’s like a veil lifts.

The silence wraps around us, amplifying every sound—the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of machinery. My heartbeat is loud in my ears as we navigate the shadowy streets, paranoia prickling at my skin.

We walk in silence, Myall leading us toward the outskirts of the sector. The buildings loom like skeletons, their decaying facades crumbling under the weight of time.

Every creaking sign, every broken window, makes my skin prickle, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Yet with Myall’s hand in mine, I push the fear aside, the adrenaline making my pulse race even faster.

“Are you sure this is the best place to talk?” I ask, my voice taut with tension as we enter the forbidden zone, its edges draped in shadows.

Myall squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Trust me, Ziva. We’ve been here before and didn’t get caught.” His smile warms something within me, a flicker of courage that pushes me forward.

“Yeah, but that was before Colvin arrived. Before the rebellion.” I say, checking our surroundings once more.

As we approach the abandoned theater, a familiar ache stabs through me. The cracked stone, the tattered remnants of curtains fluttering in broken windows—each detail brings me back to the first time Myall and I explored this forgotten place.

I remember how we’d joked about the ghosts that might haunt this place, how his laughter had been the only thing that kept the fear at bay. Now, it feels different. The air is thicker with tension, with the weight of everything unsaid between us.

“It’s perfect,” I breathe, drinking in the sight of the crumbling structure.

We slip inside through the cracked doorway, the air thick with memories as we approach the stage. I run my fingers along the dusty velvet curtain, marveling at its texture, surprised it hasn’t disintegrated under my touch.

Myall’s voice pulls me from my reverie. “What did you want to talk about?” I can see the flicker of concern in his eyes, urging me to find the words I’ve been holding back.

I turn to face him fully, my heart racing. There’s so much I want to say, so many feelings I’ve kept bottled up that are threatening to spill out of me. The weight of everything I want to say is almost unbearable, as if speaking could shatter this fragile moment.

How can I put into words the storm of emotions raging inside me? How can I tell him how much I need him, how terrified I am of losing him?

The silence between us stretches out, unbearable and heavy, as if the very air knows what I’m afraid to voice.

Myall’s patient gaze is fixed on me, waiting for my response. I take Myall’s hand, his fingers warm in mine, and lead him towards the stage, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it as we walk down the narrow aisle.

We wind past rows of dust-covered chairs. As we step up onto the worn wooden boards, I feel exposed, vulnerable. The empty seats stretch out before us, silent witnesses to what I’m about to confess.

My eyes catch sight of a worn and dusty chaise at the back of the stage, and I briefly consider suggesting to Myall that we should sit. But then I think better of it.

“Myall,” I begin, my voice barely audible in the silence of the theater. He’s watching me intently, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve been an idiot.”

His eyes search mine in the dim light, brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. My chest tightens as if the emotion will burst out of me.

“When we started this rebellion, I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing by putting the possibility of ‘us’ on hold. I told myself I just didn’t understand what it was that I was feeling. But now…” My voice cracks, and I clench my fists to steady myself.

“Now what?” Myall prompts gently, his hand still in mine, warm and reassuring as he gently rubs his thumb across my knuckles.

“I understand now just how easily I could lose you,” I confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “When we were rescuing Arden, all I could think about was how I’d feel if something happened to you. How I’d never forgive myself for wasting the time we could have had together.”

Myall’s eyes soften, and he steps closer. “Ziva, you don’t have to explain—”

“But I do,” I interrupt, pressing on before I lose my nerve. “I’ve been so focused on fighting The Authority, on breaking the chains, that I forgot why we’re doing this—to love freely, without fear.”

I hesitate, breath catching in my chest. The words weigh heavy, but they’re all that matter now.

“I love you, Myall.” It’s a quiet admission, but it feels louder than any battle cry. It’s the truth I’ve been afraid to face, but the only one that can free me.

I exhale shakily, my pulse racing in my ears.

The dusty stage beneath our feet feels unsteady as I continue.

“I dream of a world where we can walk hand in hand without fear, where our emotions aren’t crimes to be punished.

Where we can build a life together, free from The Authority’s control.

And I want that so badly, that life with you. ”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I hold my breath, waiting for his response, terrified that I’ve ruined everything.

Myall’s grip on my hand tightens, his calloused fingers intertwining with mine as he pulls me closer to him, until we’re centimeters apart. The warmth of his touch gives me goosebumps, reminding me of the connection we’ve been denying ourselves for so long.

“I want that too, Ziva,” he breathes, his voice low. “More than anything. But I’m terrified.”

His admission surprises me. Myall has always been so steady and sure, he rarely shows vulnerability.

“Of what?” I ask, searching his face. We’re standing so close together, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.

He swallows hard, his eyes meeting mine. His voice cracks slightly, a tremor of rawness that surprises me.

“Of losing you. Of failing you. Every day we risk everything, and sometimes I wonder if we’re just delaying the inevitable. That we’re walking toward something that might never come.” His confession is a weight, but it’s also a relief—because it means he feels the same.

I feel a surge of protectiveness, wanting to chase away his doubts. But before I can speak, he continues.

“But then I remember why we’re doing this. For a future where we can feel without shame, love without fear. And I know that no matter what happens, I’ll never regret fighting for that. For us.”

I can’t look away from Myall, his deep green eyes conveying a silent question, a flicker of understanding. My heart pounds against my ribs, an urgent rhythm that matches the feeling building inside me.

“Myall,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”