The river swallowed the night.
Mist rose off the black water, curling like ghosts around the ruined dock. Ezra sat on the cold concrete edge, gun resting loosely in his lap, eyes on the faint ripples where firelight from the distant compound bled across the surface.
The explosion had been hours ago, but he still heard it in his head—still felt the shockwave in his bones.
Kai had disappeared after the blast, saying nothing, just walking off into the dark with his usual silence. Jace had gone to scout for transport, muttering about "idiots in love with death."
Now it was only Ezra and the cold river, the silence pressing down so hard it made his ribs ache.
He pulled the jacket tighter around himself. It smelled faintly of smoke and Kai—gun oil, leather, danger. Comfort and poison, all mixed together.
When Kai finally returned, he came like he always did—quiet, ghostlike. Ezra didn't need to look up to know it was him. His presence shifted the air.
"You should be resting," Kai said simply.
Ezra huffed a dry laugh. "You first."
Kai stopped a few steps behind him. The moonlight hit half his face, highlighting the bruise along his jaw, the cut near his temple. He looked tired in a way Ezra had never seen before—like the fight was still dragging him backward, even when the battlefield was gone.
"They're going to come after us," Ezra said after a moment. "You know that."
"I'm counting on it."
Ezra turned his head, brow furrowing. "You want them to?"
Kai's gaze stayed fixed on the horizon. "I need them to. If they don't chase, they regroup. And if they regroup, they win."
"Always strategy," Ezra muttered. "Never survival."
"Survival is strategy."
Ezra's chest tightened. He wanted to scream at him—to ask why everything had to be a fight, why every heartbeat had to come at the edge of a gun barrel. But when he opened his mouth, the words that came out were smaller, rawer.
"I thought I lost you."
Kai finally looked at him. The night wind stirred his hair, and for a second, something in his eyes softened—barely visible, but enough to make Ezra's throat close up.
"I don't go down that easily," he said quietly.
Ezra let out a shaky laugh. "That's not the same as saying you're safe."
"I've never been safe."
"Then let me try to make you," Ezra said.
The silence that followed wasn't peaceful—it was thick, charged, dangerous. Kai's eyes flickered down to Ezra's mouth for the briefest heartbeat before he looked away, jaw tightening.
"Careful," Kai said. "You're getting too close."
Ezra smiled faintly. "Too late for that."
He stood, brushing dirt from his pants, facing him fully. The moonlight turned his features sharp and pale, his eyes dark and unflinching. "Every time I try to stay away, you pull me back. Every time I tell myself I'm done, you do something that ruins it."
Kai's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "That's not my fault."
"It is when you look at me like that."
For once, Kai didn't deny it. He just stared at him—really stared, like he was memorizing him in case the world ended before morning. And then he moved.
Two steps forward. Close enough that Ezra could feel the heat of him, the tension that hummed between them like a drawn wire.
"Do you know what you're asking for?" Kai murmured.
"Yes."
"You don't."
Ezra's hand trembled as he reached up, fingers brushing the edge of Kai's jaw. "Then show me."
For a moment, Kai didn't move. His breath hitched, eyes flicking between Ezra's lips and his eyes like he was fighting a war no one else could see. And then—he broke.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It was desperate, sharp, too full of everything they hadn't said. Ezra clutched at his jacket, pulling him closer, and Kai let him—one hand sliding to the back of Ezra's neck, grounding him, consuming him.
The world fell away.
The river, the smoke, the ruin—they all blurred into silence. There was only the pulse between them, the taste of salt and blood and fear, the reminder that they were both still alive and that, somehow, that meant something.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Kai's forehead rested against Ezra's. Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to.
After a while, Ezra whispered, "So what now?"
Kai's thumb brushed against his cheek, leaving a faint smear of dirt. "Now? We find out who set the fire."
Ezra blinked. "You mean—someone else?"
Kai's gaze hardened again, the soldier returning. "That explosion wasn't just retaliation. It was a message. Someone's moving against the Syndicate from inside. Someone who knew exactly where I'd be."
"Then we find them," Ezra said without hesitation.
Kai's eyes flicked to him. "You're still bleeding."
"Not the first time."
He almost smiled. Almost. "You're impossible."
"Yeah, but I'm yours," Ezra said softly.
Kai froze at that, something unreadable flickering across his expression. Before he could respond, footsteps echoed from the treeline.
"Interrupting something?" Jace's voice carried through the fog.
Ezra stepped back quickly, clearing his throat. "You took your time."
"Sorry, sweetheart," Jace said, smirking as he emerged from the shadows. "Had to sweet-talk a couple of mercs into handing over their boat. Don't worry—they won't miss it. Much."
Kai's gaze sharpened. "Anyone follow you?"
"Please." Jace rolled his eyes. "You're not the only one who knows how to disappear."
Ezra caught the flicker of tension between them—old, familiar, half-born of loyalty and rivalry both. Jace's smirk didn't reach his eyes tonight; something darker lingered there.
"We've got about an hour before the patrols start circling this side of the river," Jace continued. "After that, we're cornered."
Kai nodded. "Then we move."
Ezra glanced at the small motorboat rocking gently against the dock. "Where are we even going?"
"West," Kai replied. "Across the river. There's someone we need to see."
"Who?"
Kai's eyes narrowed slightly. "Someone I should've killed years ago."
Jace gave a low whistle. "Oh, this'll be fun."
Ezra frowned. "You're talking about Ardan, aren't you?"
The name hung in the air like a curse.
Kai didn't answer, but the silence was enough.
Ezra's stomach twisted. "He's alive?"
"Barely," Jace said. "And apparently running a new operation under the radar. Word is, he's been hunting Kai's old contacts—cleaning up the board."
Ezra turned to Kai. "And you want to walk straight to him?"
"I want answers," Kai said flatly. "And if he's behind this, I'll bury him myself."
Ezra's pulse quickened. "You're not thinking straight. You're exhausted, injured—"
Kai's tone dropped, quiet and dangerous. "I'm thinking clearer than I ever have."
Jace sighed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Well, guess that's my cue to make sure neither of you dies before the credits roll. Again."
Ezra looked between them, exasperated. "You both need therapy."
"Therapy doesn't pay," Jace said dryly, stepping into the boat.
Kai followed, motioning for Ezra to climb in. "Come on. Dawn won't wait."
Ezra hesitated, eyes drifting back toward the distant horizon, where the last traces of fire still burned against the dark.
Then he stepped forward, climbing into the boat beside them.
The engine sputtered to life, low and steady. The river carried them away from the ruin, toward whatever waited on the other side.
As the city lights faded behind them, Ezra glanced at Kai again. The man's face was unreadable—calm, dangerous, tired. But under the quiet, Ezra could see it: the flicker of something fragile. Something human.
He reached out, his hand brushing Kai's under the cover of night.
Kai didn't pull away.
For once, that was enough.