Page 73 of Zayrik

“I think about it,” I said, the words feeling vulnerable.

He looked at me. Waited. Patient in a way that undid me more than any pressure could have.

“I don’t know what I’d be doing,” I admitted, staring into my bowl to avoid his eyes. “But... sometimes I think I’d still be flying. Just without someone trying to kill me every other rotation.”Without having to look over my shoulder. Without being afraid to want things. To want this.

His expression shifted, so subtle most people would miss it. I didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when I’d memorized every micro-expression, every tell.

“You could still have that,” he said, voice rough with something that made my skin tingle.

I shook my head, fighting the hope his words tried to kindle. “You don’t believe that.”

“I do.”

“Even with a bounty on my head and Vask breathing down my neck?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. “Especially then.”

I stared at him, heart thudding against my ribs. The way he looked at me like he saw possibility where I only saw survival, made it hard to breathe. “Why does it matter to you?”

HE SET HIS BOWL DOWN. Looked straight at me with those impossible eyes that saw too much. That made me want to hide and be seen all at once.

“Because you don’t give up,” he said, voice low and certain. “Even when it’s stupid. Even when you should. Even when everything tells you to run.” The words carried meaning beyond just survival.

“You say that like it’s a compliment.” Like stubbornness was something to admire. Like my inability to stop fighting wasn’t going to get us both killed.

“It is.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. To the way he made weakness sound like strength. To how he saw right through every wall I’d built. So, I said nothing.

After a minute, I stood and carried the empty bowls to the room’s makeshift wash station. Needed space. Needed to breathe. Needed to remember why getting closer was dangerous.

He followed. His shadow slid up beside mine on the wall. Closer than breath, without ever touching. The heat of him made every nerve ending spark with awareness.

“Don’t,” I said, not turning around. Not trusting myself to look at him.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”Like I’m worth saving. Worth staying for.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” I snapped. Then softer, vulnerable in ways I hadn’t allowed myself to be in years, “Like you see something in me I don’t.”

I heard him exhale. Felt the heat of him behind me without him taking a step. The air between us charged with everything we weren’t saying.

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly. The words ghosted across my neck, making me shiver.

I turned, finally. Unable to resist anymore. “About what?”

“I don’t seesomethingin you,” he said, and for a moment my heart stopped. “I seeeverything.”

The words hit too deep. Slammed into places I didn’t let anyone touch. I hated him for it, for peeling me open without asking. For making mewant.

For seeing through every defense. For making me want things I couldn’t have. I wanted to kiss him again. Wanted to believe what I saw in his eyes. But I didn’t trust it. Not yet.

All I said was, “This is a bad idea.” My voice shook, betraying everything I tried to hide.

“I know.” He didn’t take a step, but the heat of him seemed to fill every corner of the small room.

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