Ember's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Even after the blood dried, after the echoes of battle faded into the dark corners of the city's underbelly, her fingers trembled like her body knew something her mind refused to accept.
She'd fought back.
She'd killed someone.
The metal pipe she'd used was still stained with blood—a dull, dark smear that wouldn't wash off, no matter how hard she scrubbed her hands against the rough fabric of her jacket.
Kai didn't say much. He just sat across from her, his back against the cracked concrete wall, watching her with that same frustrating calmness. Like this was normal. Like death was just another thing to check off a list.
Ember hated him for it.
And maybe that's why she finally snapped.
"Why aren't you freaking out?" she hissed, her voice raw. "I just—" She couldn't even say it. The word felt like glass in her throat.
Kai raised an eyebrow, his pulse blade resting beside him, its blue glow dim now. "Because freaking out won't change what happened."
His answer was simple. Too simple.
Ember shot to her feet, pacing the small space like a trapped animal. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air too thin. "You don't get it. I wasn't supposed to be like this. I kept my head down. I followed the rules."
Kai's jaw tightened. "And where did that get you?"
The words hit harder than any punch.
She stopped pacing, her chest heaving. "I didn't ask for this."
Kai stood slowly, stepping closer. "No one does." His voice was softer now, but there was an edge beneath it—like steel wrapped in velvet. "The Regime doesn't care if you ask. They'll come for you anyway."
She wanted to argue. To scream. But deep down, she knew he was right.
The worst part? A tiny, treacherous part of her didn't regret it. Not the fight. Not the blood. Because for the first time in her life, she hadn't felt powerless.
And that terrified her more than anything.
The Safehouse
They didn't stay in the tunnels. Kai led her through a labyrinth of back alleys and hidden passageways until they reached an old building disguised as abandoned. Inside, it was a different world—dim lights, scattered supplies, maps with red markings, and people.
Real people.
Not hollow-eyed drones pretending to exist. These people had fire in their eyes. Just like Kai.
A girl with short, jagged hair and sharp eyes approached them. She glanced at Ember, then at Kai. "This her?"
Kai nodded. "Yeah."
The girl snorted. "Doesn't look like much."
Ember's anger flared, quick and fierce. "And you look like someone who talks too much."
A beat of silence. Then the girl grinned—a flash of teeth, all sharp edges. "I like her."
Kai rolled his eyes. "This is Rhea," he muttered. "Don't mind her. She's all bark."
"And bite," Rhea added with a wink.
Ember didn't smile. She couldn't. Not yet.
Kai showed her around, pointing out escape routes, supply stashes, and a crude map of the city carved into one of the walls. Lines crisscrossed like veins, marking territories, patrol routes, and something labeled simply as "The Core."
She didn't ask about it. Not yet.
When they finally stopped, Ember leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "So what now? You expect me to join your little rebellion?"
Kai's expression hardened. "It's not a rebellion. It's survival."
Ember scoffed. "Same difference."
But even as she said it, the words felt hollow. Because deep down, a part of her knew—this was the start of something she couldn't walk away from.
Not anymore.