Page 52

Myall

The factory’s jagged outline cuts into the pale evening sky, its red brick weathered and cracked, as if suffocating in dust for decades. I can hear the distant whir of drones, a sound that vibrates under my skin, and my eyes scan the sky for any sign of movement.

The musty air of the storage room fills my lungs as I enter, and I exhale slowly, trying to shake off the day’s tension. Ever since Colvin’s meeting, I’ve been on edge constantly, my shoulder blades aching.

Ziva stands near the window, her silhouette framed by the fading glow of the sunset.

The light catches in her hair, turning the dark strands to bronze.

I can’t help but feel her absence in the world around me, as if everything sharpens into focus when she’s near.

She turns, and the sight of her steals my breath away.

“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low, even though it’s just the two of us.

“Hey yourself,” she replies, a smile playing at her lips. “Anything interesting at work today?”

I let out a dry chuckle. “Oh, you know, the usual soul-crushing grind.” My attempt at levity falls flat, the weight of Colvin’s threats still heavy on my mind.

Ziva picks up on my unease. “Myall? What is it?”

I shake my head, hair falling into my eyes as I struggle for the right words.“It’s just… Colvin’s really ramping up the search. And after last night…we need to be more careful than ever.”

She nods, her hazel eyes darkening with concern. “I heard whispers today. They’re increasing patrols in the lower sectors of the city.”

“Yeah, good thing Arden and Dr. Vance are now lying low at Grandma Elara’s,” I murmur.

“I also heard they’re considering sending more Authority personnel from Elysium to help Colvin crack down on the dissent here,” she adds, a hint of trepidation in her tone.

Shit.

“If they bring more Authority members here—”

“I know,” she says as she cuts me off, her voice rising to meet mine “We need to act before that happens.”

We’re silent, absorbing the weight of her words, and I feel myself drawn to her like a magnet.

Without thinking, my hand reaches for hers, and as our fingers tangle, heat and relief flood through me.

The warmth of her skin against mine is like a grounding force, an anchor to something real in this world that seems to be spinning out of control.

Her hand is smaller than mine but firm, holding onto me with a quiet strength I never knew I needed.

In that simple touch, I feel both comfort and the weight of everything we stand to lose.

“Ziva,” I murmur, marveling at how her name feels on my tongue. Last night replays in my mind—the softness of her lips, the curve of her body against mine. My pulse quickens at the thought.

She squeezes my hand, her eyes meeting mine before softening slightly. “I know,” she whispers, and in those two words, I hear all the fear, hope, and fierce determination burning between us.

She leans in, her voice low, breath warm against my ear.

“Myall,” she whispers, her breath tickling my neck.

“I’ve been thinking about… after.” Her fingers trace patterns on my palm, a jolt of sensation running up my arm.

“What if we could build a home together, somewhere clean, where we can see the stars?”

I feel her vulnerability in the tremor of her voice, the way her eyes dart to mine and then away. She’s sharing a piece of herself, fragile and precious.

“Tell me more,” I urge softly, squeezing her hand.

Ziva’s voice softens as she speaks, and I can hear the longing in it, that quiet hope she’s always kept hidden.

“I want a garden, Myall. Flowers that breathe—jasmine, I think, for their sweet scent. Not the fake, sterile blooms we’re surrounded by here.

Something alive, something that breathes with us.

” Her words leave a fragile silence in the air, a dream we can almost touch, if we reach out far enough.

“And children, Myall. Children who can laugh those deep belly laughs Elara is always going on about.”

“What about a big tree in the yard, with a swing on it?” I add, imagining it as I speak. “For the children, I mean.”

She smiles wistfully, “one that has enough shade so I can read under it on a warm, sunny day.”

Her words stir something deep within me, and I pull her closer, resting my forehead against hers. “We’ll have that, Ziva. A world where emotions aren’t crimes, where we can just be ourselves.”

I pause, gathering my thoughts. “I see us dismantling the NeuroMods—reprogramming them to enhance emotions instead of suppressing them. We’ll use your genius to turn their weapons against them.”

Ziva’s eyes light up at the idea. “And education,” she adds eagerly. “Real history, art, literature—all the things they’ve taken from us.”

“Yeah,” I nod, my enthusiasm building. “We’ll build schools, libraries. People will rediscover what it means to feel, to create, to be human.”

The future we’re dreaming of comes into focus—a life with Ziva, a life worth fighting for. The intensity of our shared vision is overwhelming, and I can’t hold back anymore. I lean in, cupping her face gently in my hands, and kiss her.

It’s a collision of everything—heat, hunger, an urgent need to hold onto something real.

Her lips are soft, but there’s fire behind them, a spark that ignites something deep inside me.

The taste of her—sweet, intoxicating, like strawberries—lingers long after the kiss ends.

I lose myself in the feel of her, in the way her breath mingles with mine, and for a moment, the world fades away. It’s just us.

I breathe her in, the scent of flowers and something uniquely Ziva filling my senses. My fingers tangle in her long hair as she presses herself closer, warmth seeping through the fabric of our uniforms.

We pull apart, breathless. Neither of us speak. We don’t need to. I watch the play of emotions across her face—wonder, hope, a fierce protectiveness that mirrors my own feelings. Her fingers are still entwined in my uniform, the slight tremor unmistakable. It hits me then, how monumental this is.

I can’t help myself. My hand moves of its own accord, reaching out to brush a wayward strand of Ziva’s hair behind her ear. The simple gesture feels intimate in a way that surpasses even our kiss. My fingers linger, tracing the curve of her cheek with a gentleness I didn’t know I possessed.

“Ziva,” I whisper, my voice low and full of unspoken promises.

She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “I know,” she murmurs, voice rough.

A tremor runs through her, and I pull her closer, her body fitting against mine as if we’ve always belonged together. The warmth of her chases away the coldness of the room.

“Are you scared?” I whisper, the fear gnawing at me.

She hesitates, the walls she’s built around herself beginning to crack.

“I’m terrified, Myall. Not of us—not of this—but of losing it.

Losing this… feeling. That when all of this is over, we’ll be left with nothing but the emptiness again.

A hollow space where everything I’ve learned to feel is erased.

I don’t think I could survive that.” Her gaze drops, unable to hold mine, as if saying it aloud might make it real.

I swallow hard, understanding completely. “We won’t let that happen,” I promise fiercely. “Whatever it takes, we’ll fight to keep this. To give everyone a chance at real emotion.”

She nods, determination hardening her gaze.

But beneath it, I see a vulnerability that she rarely allows anyone to glimpse.

In this moment, Ziva isn’t the brilliant technician or the defiant rebel.

She’s simply a woman, allowing herself to be loved, perhaps for the first time.

I press a soft kiss to her forehead, marveling at how natural it feels.

The sound of footsteps echoing through the old factory jolts us back to reality. Ziva and I spring apart, exchanging a look that speaks volumes. Her hazel eyes, usually so guarded, soften with lingering affection.

As the others file in—Marcus, Arden, Tariq, Liora, Jarek, Jorel and Dr. Vance—I force my face to remain impassive, a mask I’ve worn for years, but the rush of warmth in my chest is impossible to hide.

The tug of a smile threatens to form, a fleeting reminder of the joy I’ve just tasted.

But I swallow it down—this isn’t the place for it.

Arden zeroes in on us immediately. “Well, well,” she drawls, “Where did you two sneak off to last night?”

A flush creeps up my neck, but it’s nothing compared to the deep color on Ziva’s cheeks. Her attention falls to a loose thread on her uniform, avoiding my gaze.

Without thinking, I take her hand, intertwining our fingers again. “We figured there’s no time left to waste,” I say, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. “Not in this world.”

Ziva’s fingers tighten around mine, and when I glance at her, the radiance of her smile takes my breath away.

Yes, this is happening, and I’m not ashamed.

“About damn time,” Arden chuckles.

I want to say more, to shout our love from the rooftops. But even here, surrounded by allies, old habits of secrecy die hard. Instead, I simply nod, hoping they can see the depth of what we’ve found in each other.

As the group settles in, preparing to discuss our next moves, I can’t help but marvel at how quickly everything has changed.

Yesterday, we were colleagues at work and in this rebellion.

Today, Ziva and I stand united not just in cause, but in heart.

And somehow, that makes our fight feel all the more urgent, all the more vital.

Because now, we’re not just fighting for freedom. We’re fighting for a future where love like ours isn’t an act of defiance, but a basic human right.

Marcus catches my eye, his usual stern expression softening for a moment. He gives me a subtle nod, and for once, words aren’t necessary.

The others in the room shift awkwardly, mumbling congratulations that sound more like clearing their throats. I feel Ziva’s hand tense in mine, and I give it a reassuring squeeze. We knew this wouldn’t be easy, but we’re in this together now.

Arden’s voice breaks through the moment. “Alright, lovebirds,” she says with a grin. “As heartwarming as this is, we’ve got a revolution to plan.”

I clear my throat. “Right. Dr. Vance, what can you tell us about your inside knowledge of The Harmonization Authority?”

Dr. Vance leans forward and readjusts her glasses. “Well…as you know, they’re developing a new type of NeuroMod. One that can read and manipulate emotions on a deeper level. To do so, it must be implanted in the wearer’s neck.”

A chill runs through me as I recall the semantics we uncovered. “How does that work?”

“It’s a combination of nanotech and advanced neuroscience,” Dr. Vance says, shrugging. “If they succeed, they’ll be able to rewrite emotions entirely. It will essentially give them complete control over every citizen.”

The room falls silent as the implications sink in. Ziva’s grip tightens, her fingers interlocking with mine, and I’m struck by a terrifying thought—in that world, would what we feel for each other even be real?

“We can’t let that happen,” I say, my voice low but firm. “What’s our next move?”

“Figuring out a way to warn the public, I’d say.” Arden mutters from her spot in the corner.

As we begin planing our next move, the weight of what we’re up against settles over me. This isn’t just about freedom anymore. It’s about preserving what makes us human.

I glance at Ziva, catching her eye. In that moment, I see my own determination reflected back at me. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. And somehow, that makes me believe we might just have a chance.