The tunnel curved sharply, opening into a long-forgotten metro station — swallowed by time and reclaimed by shadows. Flickering bulbs overhead cast ghostly halos on shattered glass panels. The platform below was a graveyard of memories — torn posters flapping gently in the stale air, rusted benches twisted by age and neglect.
Aeris slowed, placing a hand on the chipped mosaic wall. Colors once vibrant were now faded to ghost-pastels, a mural of revolution long erased by the corporations' rise.
She exhaled, the cold curling from her lips like smoke. "This place used to be part of the rebel network. My mother brought me here once... when I was a child."
Kael stepped beside her, his posture relaxed for the first time in hours. The tension in his jaw loosened, eyes softening as they took in the remnants of a forgotten world.
"She was one of the first," Aeris murmured, voice low and distant. "One of the last to believe change could be peaceful. They killed her for that belief."
Silence stretched between them — not hollow, but heavy, intimate. Kael didn't speak, didn't press. He simply stood beside her, his presence a quiet vow.
From the shadows, Lira watched them both. She leaned against a rusted pillar, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. "We all lost something," she said finally, her voice barely audible beneath the soft buzz of dying lights. "Some of us gave up hope to survive. Others gave up survival to hold onto hope."
Aeris turned to Kael, her voice barely a whisper. "How do you do it? Keep protecting me like your life means less than mine?"
Kael's eyes flicked to hers — not hard, but honest. "Because when I protect you… I remember I still have a soul."
His words struck her deeper than any bullet. She looked away, blinking hard.
Above them, a pipe hissed violently — a reminder that danger still hunted them like a phantom. But in that moment, beneath flickering lights and peeling walls, something else crackled in the air.
A connection.
More than protection.
More than loyalty.
Raw. Unspoken. Real.
Kael stepped closer, his gloved hand brushing her cheek. A delicate touch in a world of ruin.
"I'm not just your shield, Aeris," he said, voice hoarse. "I'm yours. Whatever that means… however long it lasts."
And in that ruined station — half-lit, half-dead — Aeris leaned forward and rested her forehead against his.
Just for a moment.
Outside, thunder rolled across the underground cityscape. The storm was far from over. But beneath the surface, something had shifted — not just in the world, but between them.