Page 14

CASPIAN

I never liked the dark.

Not because of what hides inside it, but because of what it brings. What it summons from inside me. Ghosts. Whispers. Memories that refuse to stay buried.

But tonight, the dark doesn’t claw at me like it usually does.

Because of her. Because she’s here.

With Autumn asleep in my arms, the darkness isn’t the enemy. In fact, it’s quiet for once.

She fits here too well. Not just physically. It’s the way her head tucks perfectly against my shoulder, like it belongs there. It’s the way holding her pushes back the noise in my head. Everything is clear. For once, everything feels…still.

Her arms drape around my neck, her breath soft against my throat. Her body is warm, curved against mine. I hold her closer, tighter. Like if I keep her close enough, nothing can touch her. Not rotters. Not dregs. Not even the ghosts that haunt me.

The static in my head, the low, constant pressure that never lets up, is quiet now. The heaviness pressing on my chest? Gone. The monsters in the shadows are still out there, but they feel distant and faint.

For once, I don’t feel hollow.

I feel tethered.

My steps are slow and careful while I walk through the crumbling landscape, not wanting to jostle her.

She’s something else. Something I can’t afford to lose. I’m not used to carrying something like that.

My boots crunch over gravel and brittle leaves when I retrace the path I took hours ago, back toward camp. My legs don’t shake like they did when I stumbled out here. My lungs don’t lock up like they do when the ghosts come calling.

I’m not even counting sidewalk cracks or calculating how fast I could run if the ghosts come back.

She makes me feel braver.

And that terrifies me.

She murmurs something in her sleep, but it’s too soft to catch. Her fingers twitch against my chest while she dreams. I tuck my chin down so I can watch her face in the pale moonlight.

God, she looks peaceful. Like she’s not trapped in the same wreckage I am. Like she’s dreaming of something better. Or maybe, like me, only of things she’s lost.

A soft rustle breaks the stillness, and I freeze mid-step. My arms tighten protectively around Autumn, and my pulse kicks beneath my skin.

The trees to my left shift when something brushes past the undergrowth, but then a pair of amber eyes blink into view, rimmed in shadow.

I shift, one hand moving instinctively for the knife at my belt, but then the shape steps forward enough for moonlight to catch it.

“Luna,” I whisper .

The German Shepherd stands half-shrouded behind a slanted tree where her coat catches glints of silver light.

I remember seeing Autumn feed her earlier.

She’d snuck away from the group while the others argued about cooking duties, unaware that I’d followed at a distance to keep an eye on her.

I heard her whisper the name “Luna” then and watched her share what little food she had.

I doubt the others know about the dog yet, but I think Autumn’s been trying to gain her trust for a while.

Luna’s ears flick. Her body stays tense, but she doesn’t move closer. She only watches. First me. Then Autumn, cradled in my arms. Her head tilts, as if recognizing the one who’s been showing her kindness.

With a flick of her tail, she slips back into the shadows and disappears down the street again. I readjust my hold on Autumn and continue on.

The edge of camp comes into view. The fire burns bright. The car’s still parked in its shadow, almost hidden in vines we placed there to hide it from other survivors. The hood is propped open, and tools are scattered nearby in deliberate chaos.

Jace is hunched over the engine, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, grease smeared across one cheek. His gaze lifts when I approach. He didn’t see me leave, but he doesn’t miss me now.

His eyes land on us. On Autumn cradled in my arms, the woman who’s changing our lives by the hour.

Something flickers in his eyes. Not anger nor surprise, but something heavy, tight, and caged behind his usual control. Regret, maybe? Or loss.

Then it’s gone.

He turns back to the engine like he saw nothing. I lower my gaze and keep moving.

Inside the meager storefront shelter, I cross the last few feet of cracked concrete and sink down beside the fire, careful not to wake her.

The firelight catches in her hair, turning the purple strands almost copper and gold.

I settle against the wall and adjust her in my lap. One arm wraps around her waist, the other behind her back. Her cheek rests against my collarbone, lips parted, lashes dusting her cheeks.

She trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms. That shouldn’t mean so much, but it does. God, it does. I’d fight every shadow in this place to keep her that way.

No one has ever pulled me back from my ghosts before. Not Jace. Not Mars. Not anyone. They’ve tried. They really tried, but I’ve always been too far gone, too lost in the darkness to find my way back.

Until Autumn.

She’s the only one who’s ever reached into that black void and succeeded in dragging me back. She made me feel human again. More than a broken shell walking around pretending to live.

I shift her slightly, making her more comfortable, arms still wrapped around her, legs stretched out beneath us.

My gaze flicks toward Jace.

He’s wiping his hands on a rag now, pretending not to watch. But he is. I can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way his grip lingers a beat too long on the fabric.

That’s fine.

Let him watch.

Let the whole world watch. Because right now, I’m not shaking in some shadowed corner, losing another fight with ghosts only I can see. I’m not cold, nor empty.

Right now…I’m holding something real.

Someone who doesn’t flinch from my darkness, but stands beside me and lights a torch to push it back .

“Purple,” Mars whispers. He shifts in his sleep nearby. His concussion is healing, but slowly.

I lean my head back against the cracked concrete wall behind me, letting my eyes drift closed.

The fire warms my legs. Her body settles deeper into mine.

Her presence is like a shield, wrapping around me and holding back the dark.

My heartbeat slows, the tension eases, and warmth spreads through my body in ripples.

For the first time in years, I sleep without being haunted.

Peaceful.

I used to think the day I woke up feeling peaceful would be the day I realized I was dead. Maybe one of the ghosts I spend so much time running from had finally caught me.

But that’s not true. Not today.

Today, my breathing is even. My body is warm. I curl my fingers around…nothing.

Autumn isn’t here.

That’s okay. She probably woke first. One of the others must’ve drawn her attention. I’ll confirm that before I let my pulse spike.

Still... I miss her warmth.

Something smells amazing, which makes no damn sense. Whatever Mars throws together usually smells like rot or smoke. If it’s not rotting, it’s burning.

But this? This is warm, spiced, and smoky in a good way that feels like campfires and good memories, not wreckage and warzones.

Definitely not Mars’s cooking.

My stomach clenches in response, twisting with a hunger I’d almost forgotten how to feel. I crack my eyes open .

Dawn spills through the jagged slats of our temporary shelter’s crumbling storefront.

The fractured beams throw shadows across the dirty concrete floor.

Light glints off metal, highlights rust in the exposed rebar, and sends ash drifting in slow, weightless spirals.

The fire burns stronger now, fed with fresh tinder.

Autumn crouches beside the fire, bent over a scorched pan balanced on a scrap-metal grate she must’ve scavenged nearby. Something bubbles inside. Whatever it is smells like salvation.

She stirs with a cracked strip of wood like it’s fine silver.

Her purple hair is swept into a messy half-bun, with thin strands falling loose and curling near her jaw.

There’s a smear of soot across one cheek, and she’s still wearing Mars’s flannel.

It’s oversized on her small frame with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the collar half popped up.

What surprises me most is the fact she’s humming.

It’s faint and off-key, but it’s the best sound I’ve heard in weeks.

I’m slow to sit up and I wince when the stiffness bites through my back and shoulders. The good kind. The kind means I got some real sleep for once. I wipe sleep from my eyes and marvel at the fact I slept without nightmares. I’ve always wondered what that would be like.

Autumn glances over when she hears me move and gives me a soft smile that makes my chest warm in ways that have nothing to do with the fire. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I rasp back, reaching for the nearest water bottle.

Mars drops down beside me. His face is full of smug amusement. “You snore.”

I choke and sputter water when he pats my back. I look at him in bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

“Loud. I thought a rotter had a sinus infection.”

“I don’t?—”

“Oh, you do,” Jace calls out from behind the car. “Woke me up twice. ”

“Lies.”

“Confirmed,” Mars says, grinning as he stretches his arms overhead. “And here I thought you were the strong, silent type.”

I shake my head, but then my gaze drifts toward Autumn, who’s laughing at their antics so hard her shoulders shake. I can’t help but smile, too. She has a beautiful laugh. One that makes the broken parts of me feel a little less shattered.

She pulls the pan off the grate and divides the food. I don’t even know what it is. Some kind of smoked meat, maybe. Could be dried rations rehydrated with herbs she scavenged. Doesn’t matter. It’s hot, smells incredible, and she made it for us. For me.

I get up before I realize I’m moving. I step behind her, slide my arms around her waist, and let my chest settle against her back.

She freezes for half a second, long enough for doubt to prick and I second guess myself.

But then she exhales and softens against me.

She smells like smoke, spice, and something sweet, like dried fruit or cinnamon.

Her warmth sinks into me, and my hands settle on her hips like they belong there.

She tilts her head back to look up at me, and I’m struck again by how beautiful she is, especially with soot on her cheek. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. If anything, you helped me sleep for the first time in years.” I pause, wishing she would hum again. “What song was that? The one you were humming while you cooked.”

Her expression grows wistful, and a shadow of sadness crosses her features.

“It’s from a tiny music box Summer always carried around with her.

She found it in the garbage in one of our foster homes and never let it go.

She used to wind it up every night before bed.

” Her voice catches. “I guess I’ve been humming it without realizing. ”

“It’s a nice song,” I say.

Mars watches us from across the fire. His expression is unreadable for once, but he raises a brow.

Behind him, Jace lifts his head from under the hood and looks at us.

His gaze finds Autumn first, then shifts to my arms wrapped around her waist with my hands on her hips.

Some sort of emotion flickers across his face.

It flares behind his eyes for a second, then vanishes, and he drops his gaze before turning back to the engine.

I give Autumn a gentle squeeze. I know I only just met her, but there’s something about the way she feels in my arms that just feels right.

A few minutes later, I catch sight of Jace climbing onto the roof of the car with binoculars in hand. He settles into position and begins scanning the horizon methodically.

“If you need binoculars to see us when we’re already this close, then we need to scavenge some glasses for you. Or kidnap an eye doctor. Maybe one of those machines that fixes your eyes with a laser, that could be cool. I call dibs on pressing the button,” Mars calls out with a grin.

“Looking for signs of movement,” Jace says without lowering the binoculars. “Other survivors. Maybe more snipers lurking in the distance.”

At the mention of snipers, Autumn’s hand squeezes my arm that’s still wrapped around her. Feeling the tension spike through her body, I tighten my hold in response and lower my head so my mouth rests along the shell of her ear. “I’ve got you.”

Her body melts against mine.

“Or perhaps scouting potential search areas that Autumn hasn’t already combed through, or blown up,” Jace continues. “Always the protector, always playing three moves ahead while everyone else makes jokes and gets comfortable.”

Mars chuckles and takes a bite of whatever Autumn cooked. “Someone’s got to keep morale up around here. Can’t all be doom and gloom.”

“Even in the apocalypse?” Jace asks.

“Especially in the apocalypse,” Mars says around a mouthful of food. “Besides,” he gestures toward me and Autumn with his plastic camping spoon, “look how well the ‘getting comfortable’ part is working out. This is the best state I’ve ever seen Cas.”

I hold Autumn a little closer. A little tighter.

Not because something complicated is building between the four of us, though it is, but because I need to. Because she came to find me when no one else would. Because she offered safety in the dark.

In return, I’ll give her every part of me in the light. No matter who’s watching.

Maybe it’s because I’m realizing I’m not the only one drawn to her. Not the only one who wants to hear more of her laughter. To see more of that fire.

The way Mars watches her. The way Jace looks when he thinks no one sees.

We’re all falling for the same impossible woman.

I lower my head to the curve of her neck and breathe her in. She leans back into me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like we’ve been doing this for years instead of days.

Maybe it is natural.

And maybe that’s what scares me the most.

Because she’s already become the thing that makes the dark bearable.

And I’m already too far gone to let her go.