I glance down just as her lashes flicker. She opens her eyes—still groggy, but focused—and the moment she sees my face, she smiles.
A small, soft smile. No words. Just that.
“Good morning,” she murmurs, voice rough.
I huff a laugh under my breath. “Good morning.”
She pushes herself upright, stretching her arms overhead, shoulders cracking from the strain. The long black dress clings to her legs, and her hair is wild, uncombed, still tangled from the truck. She twists her spine gently, working through the stiffness, and her ankles crack as she stands fully.
Her eyes find me again.
She walks to where I sit, crouches low, and presses her hands to either side of my face.
“You didn’t sleep,” she says. It’s not a question.
Her gaze drags over me—each corner of my face, the set of my jaw, the bruised circle near my temple. I feel it in my chest, the way she looks at me. Like I’m something that could matter. Her fingers are warm against my skin.
I don’t know what to do with the way she sees me.
I pull her hands away gently, keep them in mine. “Don’t worry.”
She tilts her head slightly, unconvinced.
I rise to my feet, brushing off dirt and ash. The forest is quieter now—less menacing and more distance.
She watches me carefully. Her breath catches between sentences. “So how are we getting out?”
I look at her.
Then I say it.
“You’re going to Italy.”
Her eyebrows lift, slow and sharp. Her mouth opens, but the sound is drowned by the shuffling of boots across dirt.
Matteo steps out of the trees first. Mico follows half a second later.
Lira’s eyes widen. Her body stiffens beside me.
I gesture vaguely behind the trees. “There’s a road,” I say, flat. “A service road just beyond the creek bend. About ten meters west. We’ve been next to it the whole time.”
She looks between them. Then back at me.
“What is this?”
Matteo moves to my side, arms crossed, face unreadable. Mico heads straight for her.
She flinches. “Stay back!” she shouts.
I hold still.
She turns to me, voice cracking. “Severo, what are you doing?”
My jaw sets.
“I’m done using you,” I say. “You can go.”
Inside, I’m screaming.Don’t look at me like that.That soft pain in her brow. The disbelief in her mouth. It cuts.