She didn’t hear him at first.

But Kylo never expected her to. She was too focused on keeping her breath steady, trying to pretend everything was still under control. It wasn’t.

“Don’t try and run,” he said, voice low, even. Dead calm.

She froze—just like he knew she would.

It had been years since he last saw her in person, but she hadn’t changed. Not really. Her stance, the way her hand twitched near her weapon. The way her shoulders tensed before she turned. He used to know every move before she made it.

Still did.

He watched her carefully as she faced him, grip on her saber tightening. She was good. Better now than she’d been back then. Naboo had made her sharper. Or maybe the Resistance had.

She looked at him like she was trying to read him—like she was bracing for what he might do next.

He hated how familiar that expression was.

“Where’s Poe?” she asked, voice tight, scanning his face.

Kylo didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he studied her like something he couldn’t quite believe was real. The last time he’d seen her, she was disappearing into the smoke of a First Order shuttle hangar, her saber drawn and her hair matted with blood and ash. He let her go then. He’d never said why.

He didn’t have to.

She knew.

He took a step closer now, boots heavy on the old stone of the hostel floor. She didn’t flinch. Of course she didn’t. She never did with him. Even when she should have.

“You’ve gotten reckless,” he said instead, his tone unreadable.