The rover’s engine hums softly, headlights cutting through the dark. Raven stands by the open door, arms crossed, shoulders squared, like she’s already made up her mind. Like she’s already gone. But the way her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag tells a different story.

“Say the word, and I’ll stay.”

Her voice is steady—too steady. The kind of steadiness that only comes from someone trying to hold themselves together. The firelight flickers behind her, casting long shadows over her face, making it hard to read the expression in her eyes. Not that it matters. The weight in her voice says enough.

She shifts on her feet, glancing away for a second. “I mean it.”

The night stretches between you, thick with everything unsaid. The wind tugs at her curls. Somewhere in the distance, the trees rustle, the camp murmurs, the world keeps moving. But here, right now, it all feels suspended—hanging on the edge of whatever happens next.

Her hand tightens on the doorframe. “Just tell me to stay.”