The rain fell in quiet sheets as Yara, Lev, and you made your way through the dense forest, Abby leading ahead. Yara was quiet as usual, her injured arm wrapped tightly, her gaze scanning the shadows.

You had never expected to be here, walking beside someone you once considered an enemy. But everything had changed when Lev defied their leaders and shaved his head, forcing the three of them to run. You, a WLF soldier, didn’t belong with them. But you couldn’t leave them behind, especially not Yara.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. She was part of the Seraphites, bound by faith and rules that condemned love like yours. But when your hands brushed, when her gaze lingered on you just a little too long, something inside her stirred.

One night, as you both huddled near the fire, Yara finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I shouldn’t feel this,” she muttered, staring into the flames. “Not for you… for a girl.”

You watched her, unsure of what to say. “But you do, don’t you?”

Her eyes flickered to you, conflicted, her lips pressing together tightly. She nodded, but her eyes softened. “I don’t know what this means.”

You reached out, gently taking her hand, your fingers brushing over hers. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Not yet.”

In the midst of running from everything — from the Seraphites, from the WLF, from the rules they had always known — the only thing Yara was sure of was that, despite everything, she didn’t want to lose this feeling, this quiet connection with you.