We didn't move far.
Just enough to get off the main street and into a quieter area where fewer eyes would notice us.
An abandoned building.
Half-finished.
Silent.
It wasn't safe.
But it was better than nothing.
She sat down slowly against the wall, her movements more careful now.
The adrenaline was fading.
And with it, the strength that had kept her going.
I stayed standing for a moment, watching the entrance, listening for any movement outside.
Nothing.
Only then did I finally exhale and sit down across from her.
"Let me see it," I said.
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing."
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then sighed and shifted slightly.
I moved closer, carefully.
The wound on her side was worse than she let on.
Not fatal.
But deep enough to matter.
"You keep saying you're fine," I muttered.
"At this rate, you won't be."
"You're not exactly in perfect shape either," she replied.
Fair.
Still, that didn't change anything.
I tore a piece of fabric from my sleeve and pressed it gently against the wound.
She tensed slightly but didn't complain.
"Hold it," I said.
She did.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The silence felt different now.
Not empty.
Just… heavy.
"We lost one," she said quietly.
I knew what she meant.
The one who escaped.
"…Yeah."
"He saw everything."
"I know."
Silence again.
"That means next time, they'll be ready," she added.
"They already are."
This wasn't going to get easier.
If anything, it had just started getting worse.
I leaned back slightly, letting my head rest against the wall.
My body finally began to feel everything I had been ignoring.
The pain.
The exhaustion.
The weight of it all.
"…You handled it well," she said after a moment.
I let out a quiet breath.
"We survived. That's all."
"That's not all."
I glanced at her.
"You changed again."
I didn't respond.
Because she wasn't wrong.
Something about the way I fought… the way I moved…
It didn't feel like it used to.
"I don't know if that's a good thing," I said.
"It is," she replied.
Then, after a pause:
"…As long as you don't lose yourself."
That hit deeper than I expected.
I looked down at my hand again.
At the mark.
"…Too late for that."
"No," she said firmly.
I looked back at her.
"It's not too late."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then
A sound.
Subtle.
But close.
We both froze.
"…You heard that?"
"…Yeah."
I stood up immediately, ignoring the protest from my body.
She pushed herself up as well, slower this time, but determined.
"…Stay behind me," I said.
"You already know I won't."
"…Just this once."
She didn't answer.
Which meant no.
We moved toward the sound carefully.
Step by step.
Then we saw him.
Standing near the broken entrance.
Alone.
The one who ran.
His breathing was heavier now.
Not from fear.
From something else.
He looked at us.
Then raised his hands slightly.
"I'm not here to fight."
Silence.
"…You expect us to believe that?" I said.
"You don't have to."
A pause.
"…But if I wanted to attack, I wouldn't come alone."
That was true.
But that didn't mean we could trust him.
"Say what you came to say," I said.
He glanced between us, then took a slow breath.
"…Things are changing faster than you think."
"…We noticed."
"…No. You don't understand."
His expression tightened.
"There are groups forming already. Not small ones."
Silence.
"…How many?"
"…Ten. Maybe more."
My chest tightened slightly.
"That's not all," he continued.
"…There's someone leading them."
That was worse.
"…One person?" she asked.
He nodded.
"…Strong. Smarter than the rest."
"…Stronger than you?" I asked.
A brief pause.
"…Yes."
That told me everything.
"…Why are you telling us this?" I asked.
He looked at us again.
Longer this time.
"…Because if we keep fighting like this…"
A small pause.
"…none of us will last."
Silence filled the space.
I exchanged a glance with her.
We both understood.
This wasn't just about enemies anymore.
This was about something bigger.
"…So what are you suggesting?" she asked.
He didn't hesitate.
"…A temporary alliance."
The words hung in the air.
Dangerous.
Uncertain.
Necessary.
I looked at her again.
She looked back.
No words.
Just understanding.
Then I turned to him.
"…Temporary," I said.
He nodded.
"…Temporary."
No trust.
No guarantees.
Just survival.
For now.