She realised with a jolt of clarity that the Feral Convoy was starving. They weren't just hungry for food; they were starving for a woman's touch, for a mate, for any scrap of femininity in a world of chrome and rust. The City of Light had taken everything from them. To this man, she wasn't just a prisoner. She was a miracle.
And a miracle needed to be grateful.
Felicity rubbed her bare arm against the rough stone, leaving her skin's scent and faint musk in the grain. She shifted her hip, snagging her white dress on jagged rebar.
Follow the trail, Victor. Find me, Voss.
She looked up, blue eyes brimming. She hardly had to try to appear weak; she wanted him to see how exhausted, terrified, and shaken she was. A single tear traced her cheek, her lip trembling in the lantern light.
