The safehouse was underground.
Concrete walls. Low lights. No windows.
It was the kind of place built for survival, not comfort. And yet, it was here stripped of distractions, stripped of roles that Naya finally broke.
She hadn't spoken since the escape.
Not while checking weapons.
Not while securing exits.
Kairo watched her the way he watched an opponent in the ring waiting for the moment the guard dropped. He knew it would come. Not because she was weak, but because no one could hold that much alone forever.
It came quietly.
She sat on the floor of the small kitchen area, back against the cabinet, knees pulled to her chest. Her weapon lay on the table, unloaded. That alone told him everything.
Kairo moved slowly, sat opposite her, leaving space between them.
"You don't have to," he said.
Her lips curved faintly. "I know."
Silence stretched.
Then she spoke.
"His name was Elias Rourke."
Kairo didn't interrupt.
"He was my second-in-command," she continued. "My best friend. The only person in the unit who knew who I was before the uniform."
Her fingers twisted together. "He used to say I cooked like someone who was afraid of empty plates." Kairo swallowed.
"The night of the mission," she said, eyes unfocused now, lost somewhere far away, "he was the one who questioned the intel. He told command it didn't feel right."
She laughed softly broken. "They overruled him."
Her voice dropped. "When the bomb went off, he was behind me. Took the blast meant for my position."
Kairo's chest tightened.
"I dragged him into cover," she went on. "He was bleeding everywhere. I tried to stop it. Tried to keep him awake."
Her hands began to shake now.
"He looked at me and said, 'Ana, listen to me. You don't get to die for their lies.'" She pressed her fist to her mouth.
"He knew," she whispered. "He knew we were expendable."
Kairo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grounding himself so she could fall apart safely.
"He died before extraction," she said. "And command labeled it a successful operation."
Her eyes finally met Kairo's.
"That's when the ghosts started," she said. "Not the dead. The living ones. The people who rewrote the truth. Who walked away clean."
She hugged her knees tighter. "Elias was the last person I trusted completely. Losing him taught me something."
"What?" Kairo asked quietly.
"That loving someone in my world gets them killed."
The words hit him like a body blow.
"That's why you keep your distance," he said.
"That's why I cook," she replied. "Because food doesn't leave. It doesn't betray. It doesn't bleed out in your arms."
Her breath hitched once, sharply.
Kairo crossed the space between them then. He didn't pull her close. Didn't demand comfort.
He simply sat beside her.
Close enough that his shoulder touched hers.
"You didn't fail him," he said.
She shook her head. "I survived him."
"That's not a crime," he said firmly. "That's a responsibility."
She turned to him, eyes wet but fierce. "You don't understand. Every time I start to care, I see him. I hear his voice telling me to choose survival."
Kairo held her gaze. "Then maybe this time, survival doesn't mean being alone."
Her breath stuttered.
"I'm not asking you to save me," he continued. "I'm asking you not to disappear."
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then slowly she leaned into him.
Just her forehead against his shoulder.
Just enough.
Kairo didn't move. Didn't breathe too deeply.
He let her have the space she'd never been allowed before.
And in that quiet underground room, surrounded by concrete and ghosts, Naya Cross cried not like a soldier, not like a weapon.But like a woman who had loved once…
And was terrified of doing it again.