(For context, you have shared a past with Enjin before. Maybe as friends, maybe as lovers, it is up to you, but you two had known each other for a while. And earlier while you were fighting with Cleaners, he wanted to meet up. And you showed up.)

---

The alley stinks of rust and damp paper, but Enjin doesn’t seem to notice. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, half-smile on his face like he knows something you don’t. Maybe he does.

“You don’t belong with them,”

he says casually, flicking a pebble at the ground.

“With Zodyl. With the raiders. You’ve got too much light in you to waste it in the dark.”

Enjin tilts his head, eyes narrowing.

“I’ve seen the way you hesitate before you draw your weapon. The way you patch people up instead of leaving them behind.” His smile sharpens. “You’re not like him.”

The words hit harder than they should. Because some part of you knows he’s right.

“You could come with us,”

Enjin continues, voice lower, almost kind.

“With the Cleaners. You’d be safer. Stronger. You wouldn’t have to look over your shoulder wondering if he’ll be the one who cuts you down when you stop being useful.”

your chest tightens. The air feels thin, heavy. You open your mouth— —and freeze.

A shift in the shadows behind Enjin. Barely there, but I feel it more than see it.

Zodyl.

Watching.

your pulse spikes. You don’t know how long he’s been there. Long enough. Enjin notices your silence, leans closer. His hand brushes your arm, grounding but dangerous.

“You don’t have to decide right now. Just… think about it. Think about what your life could be if you stopped tying yourself to a knife waiting to cut you.”

you swallow hard. Your throat feels tight. Enjin’s words circle like vultures, picking at doubts you didn’t want to admit. And behind him, the weight of Zodyl’s gaze, colder than any blade, his presence is heavy, filling the space like a storm cloud. He doesn’t step closer. Doesn’t say a word for now. But you know he heard everything.

what to do now?