Refuge

The camp nestled in the forest gave us temporary shelter, but the weight of the outside world still pressed down. Elias's people watched us from a distance, their gazes wary and full of questions. We were intruders in their fragile haven, and trust would take time—if it ever came at all.

Apollo sat beside the fire, his body still weak, though the warmth of the flames seemed to breathe some life back into him. I caught his gaze and gave him a small, reassuring smile. He was with us—for now—and that was all that mattered.

Lecroix dropped down beside me, his shoulder brushing against mine. I didn't move away. There was something solid in his presence, a quiet strength that made me feel steady, even in the chaos.

"How's he holding up?" Lecroix asked, nodding toward Apollo.

"Better than before," I whispered, though the knot in my stomach said otherwise. Apollo's recovery was a fragile thread.

Lecroix tilted his head slightly, his eyes lingering on me for a moment too long. "And you? You've been carrying a lot."

I gave a half-hearted smile. "I'm not exactly spoiled for choices."

"You don't have to carry it alone," Lecroix murmured. His voice was low, just for me. The subtle warmth in his words stirred something unexpected inside me—something I hadn't let myself feel in a long time.

Steph and Elias approached the fire, interrupting the moment. Elias's presence was as calm as it was sharp. His gaze flicked between us, weighing every detail.

"You'll be safe here for the night," Elias said. "But don't get too comfortable. People don't stay long unless they belong."

"We're not planning on staying," Lecroix replied coolly.

Elias gave a short nod. "Good." He turned to leave but added, "If you're planning on doing something stupid, let me know. I like to keep track of the troublemakers."

Steph stayed behind, crouching near the fire. "He's not that bad, once you get used to him."

"Do we have time to get used to anything?" I asked, exhaustion creeping into my voice.

Steph's gaze softened, an expression I hadn't expected from her. "No, probably not." She looked over at Apollo. "You made it out. That's more than most."

"Barely," I whispered.

"Barely still counts," Lecroix added, giving me the hint of a grin.

Later that night, the camp settled into a tense quiet. Elias's people patrolled the perimeter, keeping an eye on the woods—and on us.

I sat beside Apollo, brushing a hand lightly over his hair. He stirred under my touch, his eyes flickering open for a moment.

"You're still here," he whispered, his voice rough with fatigue.

"Where else would I be?" I murmured, my throat tight.

He gave a weak smile. "You never did know when to let go."

I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down. There were too many unsaid things between us—things we might never get the chance to say.

As the night deepened, Lecroix returned, carrying an old blanket he'd found. He draped it over me and Apollo without a word, his hand lingering briefly on my shoulder.

"Get some rest," Lecroix said softly. "I've got you."

It wasn't just the words—it was the way he said them, like he meant it. And for the first time in a long time, I believed it.