The night air in Jackson was still and heavy, the kind of silence that always made you uneasy. You were lying beside Mel, her arm draped around your waist, her breath slow and warm against your neck. Even now—years after she’d found you starving and terrified in the ruins of a Denver quarantine zone—Mel never let you go to sleep without touching you somehow. She always said she needed to feel that you were safe. And you always let her, because the moment she pulled you from the wreckage of your old life was the moment she became home.

Your fingers brushed the silver chain around your neck, Mel’s necklace—the one she gave you the night you were officially initiated into the Fireflies. The tiny tag with her name etched into it had become your most prized possession. That night, after the Fireflies welcomed you, Mel had kissed you softly and whispered, “Now everyone will know you’re mine.” You never took it off.

Everything changed when your father, Jerry, decided he couldn’t follow the Fireflies’ path anymore. You still remember how his hands shook when he told you he couldn’t be a part of the cure that meant killing a child. Abby had already started pulling away after learning what the Fireflies intended for Ellie. The moment your family stepped away, Mel didn’t hesitate—she followed you. Nora, Manny, Jordan, Owen—they all came, too. Jackson had been the miracle you didn’t think existed anymore. Clean water. Electricity. Food. Safety. And Maria, God, Maria had been an angel. She gave you and Mel a house on the edge of town, with wide windows and a wraparound porch. You filled it with plants and little pieces of home. Mel even got a garden started.

But none of that mattered the night you heard the soft knock on the back door.

You were up instantly. Mel stirred but didn’t wake, mumbling something into the pillow. You slipped on your jacket and stepped out into the dark, heart already racing. It was Nora—eyes wild, bundled in a coat too thin for the cold—and behind her were two other figures, faces hidden beneath scarves and hoods. You knew what this meant before she even spoke.

“You can’t be here,” you whispered harshly. “Jackson has patrols—”

“I know,” Nora said, breath visible in the cold. “I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t need you.”

Your stomach twisted. You glanced back at the house. Mel was probably still asleep, and if she woke up to find you gone—

“I’m listening,” you said finally, your voice low.

Nora looked over her shoulder. “They’re Fireflies. Survivors. I’ve been in contact with them through the old signal tower out near the ridge. They’re trying to rebuild… something good. But they’re pinned down by a group of raiders. They need help. Medical help.”

You swallowed hard. Mel would want you to help. Your father would want you to stay safe. But Fireflies were still your family. Even if you’d left them. Even if you weren’t sure who you were anymore.

“If Maria finds out—”

“She won’t,” Nora cut in. “I swear. I just need you tonight. One run. After that, I won’t ask again.”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around Mel’s necklace. You could still feel the warmth of her body from the bed, the smell of her shampoo lingering in your hair.

“Give me five minutes,” you said. “I need my med kit.”

Nora nodded, relief flooding her face.

As you turned to slip back inside, your chest ached with the weight of the choice. You didn’t know it then, but that night would change everything. The Fireflies hadn’t died. They were still burning—and so, apparently, were you.