The quiet after the storm was deceptive. Logan could feel the tension in the air, as palpable as the humidity clinging to the cabin's wooden walls. He glanced at Aurora, who sat stiffly on the couch, her notebook open in her lap but untouched for the last twenty minutes. Her eyes were far away, her jaw tight.
"I meant what I said earlier," Logan broke the silence, his voice steady but soft. "We're not running. Not this time."
Aurora blinked, snapping out of her reverie. "It's not about running, Logan. It's about surviving."
"And how has that worked for you so far?" Logan asked pointedly, his blue eyes locking onto hers. "You've spent years running, hiding, building walls so high that no one can climb over them. Has it stopped them? Has it made you safe?"
Aurora flinched at his words, the sharpness of his tone cutting deeper than she'd like to admit. "It's kept me alive," she said defensively.
