Whispers Beneath the Stars
The sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon, leaving the town wrapped in the deep embrace of night. Lanterns flickered softly along the streets, their golden glow barely piercing the thick shadows that loomed beyond the settlement's borders. The quiet hum of life had faded, leaving only whispers of the wind and the faint, rhythmic creaking of wooden shutters.
Becca stood near the supply building, arms crossed over her chest, her heart beating just a little too fast. She wasn't sure why she had agreed to this—to Jace's offer to walk her home—but she couldn't shake the look in his blue eyes, the way his voice had softened when he'd asked.
She saw him before he spoke, his tall figure moving through the dim light, hands casually tucked in his pockets as if he wasn't completely aware of the effect he had on people. The lantern glow caught in his blond hair, streaks of gold bright against the dark night, and when he smiled faintly at her, she felt warmth crawl up her neck.
"Didn't think you'd come," Jace said, his voice low but teasing as he stopped a few feet in front of her.
Becca shrugged, masking her nerves with false nonchalance. "I figured someone had to make sure you didn't get yourself lost."
He chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich. "Fair enough." He tilted his head toward the path that led toward the residential quarters. "Shall we?"
Becca hesitated for only a second before falling into step beside him. The silence that stretched between them was not uncomfortable—rather, it was alive with unspoken things, with thoughts neither dared voice. Their footsteps echoed faintly on the cobblestones, a quiet rhythm against the backdrop of the town's slumber.
"I didn't take you for the kind of girl who'd avoid people," Jace said after a while, his tone casual.
Becca glanced at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I don't avoid people."
Jace smirked. "Oh, come on. I've been here weeks, and you've barely said two words to me. You talk to everyone else just fine."
"I've been busy," Becca replied quickly, though she knew it wasn't the truth.
He turned to look at her, his expression softening, the teasing edge leaving his voice. "Or maybe you're just scared to let someone in."
The words struck deeper than Becca expected, and she faltered, her steps slowing. "What makes you say that?"
Jace stopped, turning to face her fully. The shadows of the night softened the edges of his sharp features, but his blue eyes remained as piercing as ever, even in the dark. "I see it," he said quietly. "In the way you keep everyone at arm's length. Like you're bracing for something to go wrong."
Becca swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against her chest. "You don't know me," she said, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
"No," Jace agreed, his tone gentle. "But I'd like to."
She stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. No teasing, no smugness—just raw, unspoken truth. The kind that made her want to run, but also made her want to stay.
"Why?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
Jace's lips curved into a small, almost sad smile. "Because I know what it's like to lose people, Becca. To lose parts of yourself in the process. You don't have to keep pushing everyone away. Not me."
The vulnerability in his voice disarmed her completely. For a moment, the air between them felt fragile, like it might break if she so much as breathed too loudly.
Becca looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not that simple."
"It never is," Jace replied softly. "But you don't have to do it alone."
When she looked back at him, she saw something in his expression she hadn't expected—patience. The kind of quiet understanding that she hadn't realized she needed.
"Walk me home," she said finally, her voice steadier now.
Jace's smile widened, a faint dimple appearing in his cheek as he fell back into step beside her. They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the path ahead illuminated by faint lantern light and the distant shimmer of stars overhead.
When they reached the door to Becca's building, Jace stopped, his hands tucked in his pockets as he turned to face her.
"Well," he said softly, "I guess this is goodnight."
Becca nodded, lingering in the doorway as she looked up at him. "Thank you… for tonight."
"You don't have to thank me," Jace said, his voice low, almost a murmur. "Just don't avoid me tomorrow."
Becca rolled her eyes faintly, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Goodnight, Jace."
He smiled again—soft, easy—and for the first time in a long time, Becca felt something unfamiliar blooming in her chest. Hope.
Across the town, Margot moved swiftly through the quiet streets, her boots barely making a sound on the cobblestones. She was searching for Elias, the memory of the day's events replaying like a bitter loop in her mind.
She had seen them—Elias and Lara—together in the square. The way he had fed her, touched her so gently, kissed her in plain view as if the entire world had disappeared around them.
Margot's chest burned with something she didn't want to name. Jealousy.
It was foolish, she knew. From the very first day they had pulled Elias out of the shadows, she had felt it—something strong and unshakable pulling her toward him. She admired his strength, his quiet power, the way he seemed untouchable and yet burdened by something dark and heavy.
But he hadn't chosen her.
Her fists clenched at her sides as she climbed the steps of Elias and Lara's building. She paused outside their door, her breathing uneven, her thoughts racing. Why Lara?
Before she could knock, she heard faint laughter from inside—a soft, quiet sound that belonged to her. Margot closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cool wood of the door.
She wanted to hate Lara, but she couldn't.
Lara was strong in her own right—unbreakable in a way Margot couldn't define. And maybe, deep down, she knew why Elias had fallen for her.
But that didn't make the sting any less painful.
Margot turned away without knocking, disappearing into the night as the ache in her chest deepened.