Bruised Dawn

[Rowan's POV]

Morning crashed over me like a blow to the ribs—sharp, jarring, and unforgiving. Pain pulsed through every inch of me, my muscles screaming in protest as I shifted beneath the thin sheets. Every breath felt like fire licking through my bones, a brutal reminder of last night.

But it was worth it.

I had done it.

Joey was dead. One of them was gone, crushed beneath my fists. And more than that—I had awakened. That power, the raw, searing energy that had surged through me, was real. No longer a distant dream, no longer something I had to envy in others. Now, I could fight. Now, I could kill even more of them.

The thought sent a thrill through my veins—before another memory hit me just as hard.

Talia.

Shit.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. What the hell had I been thinking? The fight had been one thing. That was instinct, survival, purpose. But that? That impulsive moment after?

That had been me. No excuse.

I started it.

And now, I had to face her.

A groan rumbled in my throat as I forced myself upright, rolling my shoulders through the stiffness, gritting my teeth against the sharp ache in my side.

A quick stretch did little to loosen the tension coiling in my muscles, but I pushed through it. There was no use in lingering in my own head.

I moved to the door, inhaled deeply, then stepped out into the dim light of the hideout, making my way to the small, makeshift kitchen. Whatever came next, I'd deal with it when it arrived.

Balancing two trays in my hands, I made my way down the hall toward Talia's room. The scent of bread filled the air, mixed with the crisp coolness of the water sloshing gently in its cups. A simple meal, but enough.

It still struck me sometimes—how different life had become. How many doors opened with just the right connections, the right power.

This house, one of many we could now claim, stood tall and secure, a far cry from the crumbling alleyways Elias and I had once called home.

Back then, shelter had been whatever doorway we could duck into before nightfall, food whatever scraps we could scavenge or steal. Now, all it took was a word, and the slums bent.

I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

A voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"Well, well. Breakfast in bed for the new lady of the house?" Tobias' tone was light, almost teasing, but it didn't reach his eyes.

The flicker of something deeper, something raw, was there. A wound he wasn't willing to show.

I sighed, shifting my grip on the trays before meeting his gaze. "Look, Tobias. I don't know what you think is going on, but I promise you—it's not really like that."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head as he turned away.

"Sure, bro. Sure."

The words carried no real weight, no real belief. Just a quiet resignation, like he'd already decided what the truth was, whether I liked it or not.

I watched him go for a moment, then exhaled, pushing forward.

I stopped in front of Talia's door, shifting the trays in my hands before taking a deep breath. My foot tapped against the wood—twice, mimicking a knock. A pause. Then, with no response, I nudged the door open.

She was sitting up in bed, barely awake, her hair an untamed mess and her eyes still heavy with sleep. The dim morning light cast soft shadows across her face, accentuating the quiet stillness of the room.

I forced a small smile as I stepped inside, doing my best to appear composed—like I wasn't drowning in my own awkwardness.

"Morning," I said, voice steady despite the storm inside. "Care to join me for breakfast?"

I couldn't quite bring myself to meet her gaze.

For a moment, she just looked at me, as if trying to decide whether she was still dreaming. Then, with a lazy shrug, she muttered, "Sure."

That was it. No hesitation, no tension, no trace of the thoughts that had been clawing at my brain since I woke up.

I stood there, trays in hand, watching her stretch like nothing had changed. Like last night was just another passing moment.

Was I the only one overthinking this?

We sat on the small bed, trays balanced between us, the quiet punctuated only by the soft sounds of chewing.

The scent of stale bread and faint traces of last night's blood still clung to the air, a reminder of everything we weren't saying.

Talia's eyes flickered toward me now and then, quick, almost absent glances, like she was testing the water before diving in.

Meanwhile, my mind was at war with itself.

How the hell was I struggling with this? I had beaten a man to death yesterday—felt his skull give way beneath my hands—but here I was, hesitating over words. Since when had a teenage girl become my greatest opponent?

I forced my muscles to relax, inhaled deeply, and found my voice.

"So... about yesterday." The words came out softer than I intended, and the moment they left my mouth, Talia's head snapped up.

Her gaze locked onto mine, sharp and unreadable. Finally, she looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

But before I could get another word out, she cut me off.

"It was a mistake, right?"

She spoke fast, like she needed to get it out before she lost her nerve. The honesty in her voice was raw—real. And yet, something about it stung.

Being called a mistake didn't do much for my pride. But she wasn't wrong.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my voice to sound even, controlled.

"Yeah. We weren't thinking straight. Just… an escape." The words felt flimsy even as I spoke them, like a rope fraying in my hands. But I pushed through, keeping my tone light. "I mean, we have to live a little, right?"

It sounded convincing enough. Maybe even sincere. But somewhere beneath that forced ease, regret coiled in my chest.

Because Talia was the only one who had stayed—through all of it. The blood, the betrayals, the nights when it felt like the walls were caving in. She never turned away.

And I'd seen what happens when lines blur and things get complicated. I'd seen it with Elias. I couldn't let it happen again.

Talia studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, I almost died. You did too. We just… needed something to hold onto."

"Right." I swallowed, nodding. "You're right."

There was a pause, just long enough for the air between us to settle. I hesitated, then let my guard slip just a little.

"But… thanks. For standing by me through all of this." I didn't add anything more. It felt like enough.

This time, she didn't look surprised. Something flickered in her eyes—something softer, something I couldn't name. And then, she smiled.

It was real. Uncomplicated. The kind of smile that made everything else seem distant for a moment, like the world wasn't just war and blood and desperate choices.

"You don't have to thank me," she said simply. "Without you, we wouldn't have any of this in the first place."

And for a second, just a second, it felt like maybe things weren't as broken as they seemed.

I nodded, feeling something stir in my chest—hope, coiling tight and treacherous. The dangerous kind. The kind that made you want to believe things could be different. That maybe, just maybe, there was more waiting beyond the blood and the bodies left in our wake.

For a second, I almost let myself smile. But then I remembered.

I had no reason to. Not now.

Elias was slipping through my fingers, further and further with every passing day. The monsters of the past still lurked in the shadows, breathing, scheming, waiting. The war wasn't over. Hell, it had barely begun.

Before my thoughts could drag me under, Talia's voice cut through the silence.

"But… what happens next?" Her tone was quiet, almost hesitant. "After the war. What do we do?"

I blinked, caught off guard. That wasn't something I had allowed myself to think about. I had built myself into this—into the fight, the struggle, the endless, grinding war. It had consumed me so completely that the idea of anything beyond it felt like trying to grasp smoke.

Because the truth was, for all my planning, all my certainty in front of the others, I had no idea how I was going to win this war. And after? What came after?

I had no clue. And that scared me more than I was willing to admit.

"After we win," I said, the weight of those words settling between us, heavy yet uncertain. "I think it'll finally be time."

Talia watched me, waiting. I exhaled slowly, grounding myself in the thought, in the possibility of something beyond this endless war.

"The time to move on—from this place, from the past. I'll try to fix things with Elias. To be something more than this." I paused, then added, quieter but resolute, "I'll grow stronger."

The words hung in the air, unspoken questions lingering in the silence between us. Would there really be an 'after'? Would we make it that far?

Before she could answer, the door burst open with a force that rattled the walls.

Instinct took over. In a heartbeat, I spun, my blade flashing into my grip, ready to strike—

Alicia.

She stood in the doorway, breathless, eyes wide with urgency.

"Rowan," she gasped, "there are people outside. Hurry!"

And just like that, the fragile moment shattered.