C H A P T E R 16 Day 2.

ZANE:

The storm rolled in fast, the wind howling through the trees like it had a vendetta. Thunder cracked overhead, loud enough to make the cave walls tremble. I leaned back against the rocky surface, keeping one eye on the fire and the other on Alisa, who was curled up across from me, pretending to be unbothered. 

She wasn't fooling anyone. 

Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her head bowed just enough that I could see the tension in her shoulders. Every time thunder growled, she flinched like it was a physical blow. 

I'd been trying to give her space, figuring she'd snap if I said anything. But when a particularly loud boom lit up the cave, she bolted from her spot so fast it made my head spin. 

Before I could process what was happening, she was crawling into my makeshift bed, her small frame trembling as she pressed herself against my side. My jacket was draped over the pile of blankets I'd thrown together, and she yanked it up to hide under it like a shield. 

"Alisa?" I said, my voice low and cautious. 

"Shut up," she muttered, her voice muffled against my chest. 

I froze for a second, not used to her being… vulnerable. But when I felt the way she was shaking, something in me shifted. Protective. Possessive. Mine. 

I let out a slow breath and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "Hey, it's just a storm. It's not gonna touch you." 

She didn't answer, just curled tighter against me like I was the only solid thing in the world. 

"Alisa," I said again, softer this time. "Talk to me." 

She didn't lift her head, but her voice was barely audible. "It's stupid." 

"Try me," I said, stroking her hair without thinking about it. 

She stayed quiet for so long I thought she wasn't going to answer. But then she whispered, "It reminds me of that night." 

My gut twisted. She didn't need to explain. I'd pieced enough together to know what she was talking about. The night her father had tried to kill her, and she'd had to stab him to survive. 

"You're safe," I said, my voice firmer now. "I'm here. No one's ever gonna hurt you like that again." 

She snorted softly, though it was more bitter than amused. "That's rich, coming from you." 

I didn't let go, didn't rise to the bait. "Yeah, well, I've made my share of mistakes. But if anyone comes for you, they're gonna have to go through me first. And I don't plan on losing." 

Her trembling slowed a little, and I felt her shift, finally tilting her head back to look at me. Her eyes were wide, glinting in the dim light of the fire, and for once, she wasn't hiding behind her usual sarcasm. 

"Why do you care so much?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"Because I do," I said simply. 

Something unspoken passed between us, the air between us charged with something I couldn't put into words. 

Before I knew what I was doing, I cupped her face, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone. She didn't pull away. 

Her gaze flickered to my lips, and I didn't need any more of an invitation. I leaned in, my heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the storm outside. 

Our lips met, hesitant at first, but then she pressed closer, her fingers curling into my shirt like she didn't want to let go. It was soft and raw and everything I hadn't known I wanted. 

And then, because the universe apparently hated me, the guy tied up in the corner groaned. 

We broke apart like teenagers caught sneaking out, both of us breathing hard. 

"Seriously?" I muttered, glaring at the man as he started to stir. 

Alisa let out a shaky laugh, her cheeks flushed as she scooted back slightly, but not far enough to break the contact completely. 

"This guy has the worst timing," she said, her voice still a little breathless. 

"Next time, I'm gagging him," I grumbled, reluctantly untangling myself from her. 

She smirked, her confidence already creeping back. "Next time, huh?" 

I shot her a look, but the corner of my mouth twitched despite myself. "Don't get cocky, Storm." 

She didn't answer, but as I stood to deal with our very inconvenient prisoner, I could still feel the ghost of her lips on mine. 

The groaning idiot wasn't even fully awake when I heard it—a faint rustling outside the cave entrance. My instincts kicked in, and I turned toward the sound, my hand already on the knife strapped to my side. 

"Stay here," I muttered to Alisa, moving toward the entrance. 

"Yeah, because that worked out so well last time," she whispered harshly, standing right behind me before I could blink. 

I shot her a look. "I mean it. Don't move." 

She crossed her arms. "And miss the action? Not a chance." 

Before I could argue, two shadows slipped into the cave, their footsteps eerily silent. The first was burly, all muscle and menace, while the other was wiry but carried a blade in each hand like he knew how to use them. 

"Great," I muttered under my breath. "The welcome committee's here." 

The burly one stepped forward, his gaze flicking to the unconscious man and then to me. "You've caused us a lot of trouble, Star. Hand over the girl, and we'll make it quick." 

Alisa stiffened behind me, but I didn't take my eyes off the two intruders. "How about you step back outside and let me finish my nap? Sound fair?" 

The wiry one grinned, twirling his knives. "Wrong answer." 

He lunged, and everything happened at once. 

I sidestepped the first swipe and kicked out, sending him sprawling into the cave wall. The burly one charged next, swinging a fist that could've knocked me out cold if I hadn't ducked. 

"Zane!" Alisa shouted, but I didn't have time to look. 

The wiry guy was back on his feet, and now I had both of them coming at me. I blocked a punch, dodged a knife, and then landed an elbow in the burly one's gut. 

In the chaos, I caught a glimpse of Alisa grabbing something—a wooden stick? No, a frying pan. Again with the frying pan. 

"Alisa, what the hell are you doing?" I shouted as she darted past me, swinging the pan with surprising force at the wiry guy's head. 

"Improvising!" she yelled back, as if that explained everything. 

The wiry guy staggered but didn't go down, and I had to admit I was impressed. Not that I had time to dwell on it, because the burly one grabbed me from behind, locking me in a bear hug. 

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" I grunted, slamming my head backward into his nose. He yelped, loosening his grip just enough for me to spin and plant a solid punch in his jaw. 

Meanwhile, Alisa was holding her own against the wiry one, wielding the pan like it was Excalibur. She ducked under one of his swings and jabbed him in the ribs with the handle, then yanked a tin cup from the ground and threw it at his face. 

"Did you just throw a cup at him?" I called out, incredulous. 

"It worked, didn't it?" she snapped, dodging another knife. 

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped, even as I turned to deal with the burly one again. He was slower than the other guy, but what he lacked in speed, he made up for in brute strength. 

"Watch out!" Alisa shouted, and I barely ducked in time to avoid a knife whizzing past my head. 

"Thanks for the heads-up," I said dryly, shoving the burly guy into the wall with a satisfying *thud.* 

"I'd say you're welcome, but you're not exactly making this easy!" she shot back, whirling to dodge another strike. 

I tackled the wiry guy before he could get another swing at her, pinning him to the ground. "Stay down," I growled, slamming his head against the dirt floor for good measure. 

Alisa, meanwhile, had managed to trip the burly one with a wild swing of the pan, and when he hit the ground, she didn't hesitate. She grabbed a loose rock and smashed it into his temple, leaving him dazed and groaning. 

The cave fell silent except for the heavy breathing of both of us—and the two unconscious bodies on the floor. 

Alisa stood there, panting and clutching the pan, her hair a wild mess and her cheeks flushed. "Well," she said, trying to catch her breath. "That was fun." 

I stared at her, my chest still heaving. "You're insane." 

"And you're welcome. Again." She dropped the pan with a clatter and winced, flexing her fingers. "Ow. My hand hurts." 

"You've got to stop punching people," I said, shaking my head. 

She smirked, even as she cradled her hand. "Not my fault they're so punchable." 

I shook my head, half in disbelief, half in awe. "You're something else, you know that?" 

Her smirk softened, and for a second, I thought she might actually say something nice. But then she shrugged, her voice casual. "Yeah, well, you'd be dead without me." 

She wasn't wrong. And that was the most infuriating part of it.