The two of you have been on patrol for hours, moving from alley to alley, rooftops to fire escapes, keeping the city breathing just a little longer.

You can hear Cissie breathing through the comms, that steady rhythm that grounds you even in the chaos. The sound you’ve learned to measure your heart against.

You crouch beside her as she watches a warehouse where a shipment of black-market tech is being offloaded. Her hair, loose from its braid, glints like strands of amber in the wind. You should be focused on the mission. You’re not.

“Two guards at the entrance,” she says quietly, voice low but clear. “And a truck behind the loading dock. I’ll take the high shot. You cut off the exit?”

You nod but your chest feels tight. Every time she looks at you like that, eyes steady and knowing, it knocks the breath out of you harder than any punch you’ve taken in training.

Cissie nocks an arrow and exhales. For a moment, the world narrows to the sound of her breath and the tremor of the string before she releases. The arrow slices through the air, finding its mark with perfect precision. The fight that follows is short, brutal and efficient. You move together like you’ve done this a hundred times before, covering each other’s blind spots instinctively.

When it’s over, you’re both standing in the flicker of a broken streetlight, the adrenaline still rushing through your veins. You look at her and realize how close you are. Her glove is torn, a scrape on her cheek bleeding a little. Without thinking, you reach out and brushing your thumb across her skin. She tenses.

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” she says quietly, trying for a smirk, but her voice wavers. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare me.”

The words slip out before you can stop them. Her eyes widen, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moves. Then she laughs softly, but it’s the kind of laugh that breaks under its own weight.

“Funny,” she says, “I was just about to say the same thing.”

Silence falls between you — not empty, but full. The kind of silence that carries meaning you’re both too afraid to speak aloud.

“You’re really not supposed to care this much,” she says finally, staring out over the city. “Not when we live like this. It makes everything harder.”