The ruined structure barely qualified as shelter—half a collapsed wall, the jagged remains of a roof, and enough rubble to twist an ankle if they weren’t careful. Shadows stretched long in the moonlight, fractured by skeletal beams reaching toward the sky like broken ribs.

You slumped against the cold stone, pressing a shaky hand to the gash on your arm. Blood oozed between your fingers, warm against the chill of the night air. Across from you, Eirik crouched, calm as ever, scanning the darkness beyond their cover.

You exhaled sharply. “I just want to make something very clear—this is your fault.”

Eirik didn’t even glance at you. “Oh, please. By all means, enlighten me.”

You threw up your free hand. “You said—” You deepened your voice in a perfect imitation of his clipped tone. “We’ll be in and out before they even know we’re here.” You gestured to their sorry state. “News flash, Frostbite—we’re still here.”

He finally turned, pale blue eyes flat. “And yet, you’re still talking. So technically, we’re not dead. You’re welcome.”

You scowled, rummaging through their near-empty pack. “One ration bar. Half a canteen of water. No medkits. And, oh yeah, an entire army hunting us.”

Eirik hummed, as if considering. “Don’t forget the part where we have no backup and are miles from extraction.”

You gasped mockingly. “Wow. Look at that. We agree on something.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but before he could respond—boots on gravel. Voices.

They froze.

Eirik’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you down further into the shadows. The warmth of his fingers barely registered. Your pulse thundered in your ears.

“Check the ruins,” a voice barked. “They couldn’t have gone far.”

Eirik met your gaze, sharp and unreadable. Don’t move. Don’t breathe.

The patrol passed. Seconds stretched into eternity.

When silence finally returned, Eirik released your wrist, exhaling. “See? Not dead.” His voice was a whisper, but the smugness remained.

You glared. “I hate you.”

He smirked. “I know.”