Page 46 of Run of Ruin

“You ever wonder what it’d be like… if it wasn’t like this?” His gaze stayed on the stars. “If we didn’t have to fight for scraps, or bleed for a system that treats us like… this?”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure what to say.

But Thorne wasn’t really asking. He was remembering. Or maybe imagining.

“Not sure we’re allowed to imagine that,” I replied.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling up at the sky.

“You said something once to me,” I said. “Something about the stars.”

He smiled at me, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I sure did,” he replied.

“What did you mean?” Ava had once said something similar, and I couldn’t help but be curious.

“Funny thing about stars,” he murmured. “You can’t see ‘em in the city anymore. Praxis burned out the sky with their towers of lights and their technology. But out here? They’re still shining.” He tilted his head, a faint, almost wistful smile playing at his lips. “Even all the glitter and gold can’t stop them.”

I thought it was just another one of his poetic turns of phrase, but something in his voice made me look at him a little longer.

“I should get some sleep,” I said quietly, not sure why my throat felt tight.

“Yeah,” Thorne agreed, but he didn’t move.

Neither did I.

“Goodnight, Thorne,” I murmured as I stood, brushing the dirt from my hands.

He didn’t look away from the sky. “Goodnight, Brexlyn,” he replied, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

I made my way back to the tent, the chill settling heavier around me now. I crawled inside, curling up on the cold ground, but sleep still refused to come. I waited… for what, I wasn’t sure. For his footsteps, maybe. For the familiar weight of him beside me. I told myself it was for warmth. Just that.

When he finally returned, I felt him settle down nearby, the faint shift of fabric and breath in the dark. I didn’t move, but I knew he knew I was awake.

A moment passed.

Then his hand brushed against mine. A tentative,lingering touch, skin meeting skin in a way that sent heat rushing through me despite the cold. Slowly, his fingers laced with mine, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate lines along the back of my hand.

We didn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

For a few stolen minutes, it felt like the world outside the tent walls didn’t exist, no trials, no cameras, no Praxis. Just us and the stars.

Then, without a word, he lifted my hand to his lips. His mouth was warm against my skin, a ghost of a kiss. A promise, or a goodbye, or maybe just a little indulgence.

He let go.

The air shifted again.

I heard the softclickas his camera flicked back on. And a breath later, I turned mine on too.

Our brief, star-filled escape vanished and I felt Praxis’ eyes fall on us again.

Briar was gonewhen I woke up the next morning. Thorne lay curled in his blanket, softly snoring, his face peaceful. I slipped out from the edge of the campsite and stretched my legs, the early morning air cool against my skin.

Thorne’s words from last night circled in my head.

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