Aaron stared down at her, utterly disarmed. The sheer force of her will, the suddenness of her embrace, the unexpected shift from heartbroken victim to resolute ally, it all crashed over him at once. His eyes, shadowed with guilt and exhaustion, widened. And in their depths, a tiny, defiant spark flickered to life, then caught. It was not just hope. It was the first glimmer of shared purpose, the realization that he was not doomed to fight his battles alone in the dark. A single, traitorous tear slipped free, tracing a path through the dust on his cheek and catching the light.
"Georgia, you can't," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "It's too dangerous. I just told you."
"You told me about a problem," she interrupted, her grip tightening on his shirt. "And I'm telling you I'm part of the solution. You don't get to make all the decisions anymore. Not about this. Not about me."
*****
