The low rumble of engines swelled into a thunderous roar, sharp and menacing, as vehicles crashed through the outer ruins of Scrap Corner. Dust billowed. Wooden barriers splintered. Panic erupted through the small market like wildfire.
People screamed.
Merchants abandoned their stalls.
Shadows scattered into the darkness.
Aris's blood turned to ice.
She'd known the raiders were persistent. She'd known they wouldn't give up the hunt easily. But she'd foolishly assumed they'd lose the trail before reaching Scrap Corner—her safe haven, her last reliable market, her best chance at getting paid.
Stupid.
Naive.
Unforgivably soft.
In the Wasteland, no place was truly safe.
And no payday came without a fight.
"They're here for me," Kael said, his voice low and dangerous, no longer the resentful captive but a warrior ready for war. His golden eyes blazed in the firelight, every muscle coiled tight, his posture radiating the quiet authority of a man born to command.
Aris didn't waste time arguing.
She didn't waste time panicking.
She grabbed her backpack, slung it over both shoulders in one sharp movement, and tucked her small knife back into her boot. Her hand remained clamped around the hilt of her larger blade, her gaze flicking between the approaching raiders and the only exit that didn't lead directly into enemy hands.
"Back exit," she snapped. "Through the alley behind Mara's stall. It leads into the ruins. We lose them there."
Kael didn't move.
He stood his ground, his gaze fixed on the first of the raiders as they poured into the market, guns raised, masks covering their faces.
"I'm not running," he said flatly.
Aris stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
"Are you joking?" she hissed, quiet but furious. "You're outnumbered, outgunned, and you just got free ten seconds ago! We run. That's the plan. You don't get a vote in my survival strategy."
"I am not running from traitors and dogs," Kael replied, his tone brooking no argument. "They came here to kill me. They will burn this market to the ground to get what they want. If I run, they follow. If I fight—"
"You die," Aris cut in sharply. "And if you die, I lose the only valuable thing I've found in months. I didn't save you, untie you, or drag you across the Wasteland just to watch you get shot like a common thug."
For a heartbeat, their eyes clashed.
Aris — ruthless, practical, unwilling to lose her profit.
Kael — proud, dangerous, unwilling to flee his enemies.
Then a gunshot cracked through the air, a bullet slamming into the wooden stall beside them, splinters exploding outward.
The decision was made for them.
"Fine," Aris snarled. "Fight. But if you so much as stumble, I'm leaving you. I'm not dying for your pride."
Kael's lips twitched, almost a smile.
"Worry about yourself, scavenger."
He moved.
It was like watching a storm uncoil.
One moment he stood still.
The next, he blurred into motion.
He didn't have a weapon.
He didn't need one.
His fist slammed into the nearest raider's mask, the sound of cracking bone loud even over the chaos. The man crumpled without a sound. Kael's hand snatched the gun from falling fingers, and he turned, firing twice in quick, precise succession.
Two more raiders went down.
Aris watched, wide-eyed, as the warlord moved through the panic like a scythe through wheat. He was efficient. Brutal. Controlled. Every movement had purpose. Every strike ended a threat.
This wasn't just a fighter.
This was a killer.
And he was on her side.
For now.
"Move!" Kael barked, not looking at her, firing again. "Now! Through the exit. I'll cover you."
Aris didn't need to be told twice.
She turned and bolted, darting behind Mara's stall and into the narrow, shadowed alley. Ruined brick walls loomed on either side, the path tight and dark — perfect for escaping, terrible for being followed.
She didn't look back.
She didn't hesitate.
Survival wasn't about waiting for heroes.
It was about running when it was time to run.
Bullets whizzed past her ears, kicking up dust at her heels. The sounds of fighting echoed behind her — grunts, gunshots, the dull thud of fists against flesh.
Aris didn't stop.
She couldn't stop.
She burst out of the alley and into the broken skeleton of an old building, its ceiling collapsed, its floors gone to rubble. She ducked behind a chunk of concrete, chest heaving, and finally allowed herself to glance back.
Kael emerged from the alley a second later, moving fast, gun in hand, his armor scored with new scratches but his body unbroken. He didn't pause. He didn't gloat. He just moved toward her, silent and deadly.
Aris stood, knife still in hand, watching him approach.
He was free now.
Untied.
Unrestrained.
Fully capable of turning on her and vanishing into the Wasteland.
He stopped a few feet away, his golden eyes meeting hers.
For a long, tense moment, neither spoke.
The distant sounds of the raiders faded, lost in the maze of ruins.
They were alone.
Hidden.
Safe — for the moment.
Kael held out the gun he'd taken, handle first.
Aris stared at it.
Then at him.
"For protection," he said simply.
She hesitated, then took the weapon, her fingers closing around the cool metal. It was loaded. Heavy. Real. A luxury she rarely afforded herself.
"Why?" she asked, suspicion sharp in her voice. "Why not run? Why not leave me here? You're free now. You could disappear. No rope. No sales. No me."
Kael's expression was unreadable.
"Running would be easier," he admitted. "But you didn't leave me to die in the market. You didn't leave me to the scavengers. You untied me. You gave me a fighting chance."
He paused, his gaze steady.
"I do not owe debts. And I do not like being in your debt."
Aris stared at him, completely thrown.
No one in the Wasteland did things because they owed someone.
No one acted out of honor.
No one cared about debts unless they involved coins.
But Kael — the warlord, the lord, the dangerous man she'd tried to sell — was looking at her like honor actually meant something.
It was the strangest, most unsettling thing she'd ever experienced.
She recovered quickly, her usual sharp smirk sliding back into place.
"Don't get soft on me," she warned, tucking the gun into her waistband. "Soft merchandise gets sold cheaper. And I still intend to sell you. This… this little teamwork thing doesn't change anything."
Kael's lips actually twitched, a real, faint, almost amused smile.
"Of course not," he said dryly. "Nothing has changed."
Aris huffed, turning away, pretending her heart wasn't beating a little faster than usual.
"Good," she said. "Now come on. We walk through the night. We put distance between us and the raiders. And you can continue being my temporary, overly dramatic bodyguard."
She started walking, deeper into the ruins, away from Scrap Corner, away from her lost payday.
Kael followed.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Aris knew something had shifted.
The dynamic between them had frayed.
Changed.
Became something more than captive and seller.
But she pushed the thought away.
Feelings were bad for business.
Attachments were deadly.
And she was still going to sell him.
Probably.
Maybe.
…Later.
The Wasteland stretched out ahead of them, dark and endless and full of secrets.
And for the first time in her life, Aris wasn't walking it alone.