A Secret Concession

The compound sat under the weight of a restless night. Even the air carried the kind of charged stillness that signaled something terrible was coming. The torches that lined the perimeter crackled in the cold wind, their light barely cutting through the thickening dusk. Every creak of the wooden watchtowers, every distant howl of the wind, felt like a whisper of oncoming war.

Leila stood over the old, scarred table in the command room, her hands planted on its surface as she stared at the spread-out map. Her brows furrowed in concentration, but her mind wasn't entirely on the markings before her—drawn evacuation paths, highlighted weak points in their defenses, fallback shelters marked in ink so dark it nearly tore the fragile paper.

This wasn't a battle plan. It was a last resort.

A secret, silent admission that she wasn't sure they could win this fight.

She clenched her jaw, her fingers curling slightly against the wood. The weight of leadership pressed heavier than ever.

She didn't hear Mark enter, but she felt his presence—steady, solid, and sharp-eyed as always. The door shut behind him with a dull thud, sealing them into the dimly lit space where only the map, the fire, and their shared exhaustion existed.

He let the silence hang for a moment before speaking.

"You're planning an evacuation," Mark said flatly.

Leila didn't flinch. Didn't look up. "A contingency," she corrected.

Mark exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "Looks a lot like an evacuation plan to me."

Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression hard, unyielding. "If I don't plan for the worst, then I'm failing everyone here."

Mark ran a hand over his jaw, sighing through his nose. "And what's the worst, Leila? What do you actually think is gonna happen?"

She straightened, crossing her arms, her muscles coiled tight. "Jace's group isn't some desperate bunch of drifters looking for scraps. They're organized. Calculated. They don't need to attack us for survival. This is about something else."

Mark's jaw ticked. "You mean revenge."

She nodded.

Mark swore under his breath, pulling out a chair and sinking into it, rubbing his hands together. "Alright. Let's say you're right—this isn't just a raid, it's personal. That means we're not just fighting for supplies, we're fighting against people who want to hurt us, you especially."

Leila's stomach twisted, but she didn't let it show. "Exactly."

He gestured at the map. "You've already picked the evac routes."

She didn't answer, but the silence spoke for itself.

Mark dragged a hand down his face. "Christ." He paused, eyeing her carefully. "Does Kai know?"

Her throat tightened. "Not yet."

Mark gave a humorless chuckle, leaning back. "So, you told me, but not him?"

"I trust Kai," she said quickly. Too quickly.

Mark didn't look convinced. "Then why keep him out of it?"

Because Kai was a fighter. If he knew about this, he'd see it as a retreat. He'd argue. He'd fight. He'd—

He'd care.

And that scared her more than anything else.

She exhaled through her nose, stepping away from the table and moving toward the fire. The flames danced over old logs, the smell of burning wood filling the room. The warmth barely touched the cold inside her.

"This is about Jace, isn't it?" Mark said.

Leila's shoulders stiffened.

Mark leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You've never really talked about it, you know. Not to me. Not to anyone."

She stared at the fire. "Because talking about it doesn't change what happened."

"No," Mark admitted. "But it might change how we handle what's coming."

Leila clenched her jaw, her fingers curling into a fist. For a long moment, she said nothing, only listening to the sound of crackling wood. Then, finally, she spoke.

"I met Jace in college." Her voice was steady, emotionless, like reciting a fact from a long-forgotten history book. "We were together for years. He wasn't always like this. Or maybe he was, and I was just too in love to see it."

Mark remained silent.

"I trusted him. And I trusted Ellie, too." She let out a dry, humorless laugh. "She was my best friend. We did everything together. If you'd told me back then that one day she'd be trying to kill me, I would've laughed in your face."

Mark's expression darkened. "And yet, here we are."

Leila nodded. "Here we are."

For a moment, she let herself slip back to that memory—the betrayal, the fear, the moment she realized that the two people she had loved most had chosen to leave her for dead.

She could still hear Ellie's voice in her head, telling her to trust them. And then the shove. The fall. The sharp agony of hitting pavement. The horror of watching them run instead of helping her.

Her lips parted slightly, but she bit back whatever else she might have said. There was no point in reliving it.

Mark sat back, exhaling slowly. "So, what do you want to do, Leila? What's the real plan here?"

She turned away from the fire, meeting his gaze, her expression carved from stone.

"I want to be ready," she said. "If they come, we don't let them win. And if I get the chance, Mark…" Her fingers flexed. "I won't hesitate."

Mark studied her, the flickering light casting sharp shadows across his face. "If you hesitate, you die. You know that."

Leila nodded. "That's why I won't."

Mark let the words settle before nodding. "Alright. I'll help set up the fallback points. Quietly."

She didn't thank him—Mark wasn't the type who needed thanks for doing the right thing. Instead, she walked back to the table, smoothing her hands over the map.

Mark hesitated. "You sure you don't wanna tell Kai?"

Leila's throat felt tight again, but she pushed past it. "Not yet."

Mark sighed, shaking his head, but didn't argue. "Alright. We'll play it your way."

As he left the room, Leila turned back to the map, her fingertips ghosting over the marked escape routes.

Jace was coming.

And this time, she wouldn't be the one left bleeding in the dirt.