She covers her face with her hands.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she says, her words so small and quiet I have to step closer to hear them. “I’ve been prepared for literally every single other high-stress situation life can throw my way, but I have no idea how to properly reciprocate positive emotion. I was never shown how. Never taught how to do it. And, as a result, I’ve avoided it altogether.”

Finally, she meets my eyes.

“I’ve always avoided doing things I know I’ll be bad at,” she says. “And with this— Relationships? Physical intimacy? I just . . . don’t. Ever. With anyone. It’s too messy. Too confusing. There’s too much code, too much garbage to filter and decipher. Besides, most of the people I meet are either assholes or cowards or both. They’re rarely genuine. They never say what they’re really thinking. And they all lie to my face.” She sighs. “Except for you, of course.”

“Nazeera—”

“Please,” she says softly. “This is so humiliating. And if it’s all right with you, I really don’t want to drag this conversation out any more than I absolutely have to. But I swear—after today—I won’t come near you again. I’ll keep my distance. I promise. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to kick you that hard.”

And she leaves.

She turns on her heel and stalks off, and I’m seized by something, something that feels a lot like panic when I say— “Wait!”

She freezes.

I run after her, grab her by the waist and spin her around, and she looks surprised, and then uncertain, and I say: “Why me?”

She goes still. “What do you mean?”

“I mean— That day, when you kissed me. You chose me that day, didn’t you? For your first kiss.”

After a moment, she nods.

“Why?” I say. “Why’d you choose me?”

All of a sudden, her eyes go soft. The tension in her shoulders disappears. “Because,” she says quietly, “I think you might be the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh.”

I take a deep, uneven breath, but it’s not getting me enough oxygen. Feeling is flooding through me, so fast and hot I can’t even remember that I’m freezing.

I think I’m dreaming.

God, I hope I’m not dreaming.

“Kenji?”

Say something, dumbass.

Nope.

She sighs, the sound filling the silence. And then she looks down, at the ground between us. “I’m really, really sorry I kicked you like that. Are you okay?”

I shrug, and then wince. “I probably won’t be able to walk in the morning.”

She looks up. There’s something like laughter in her eyes.

“It’s not funny,” I say, but I’m starting to smile, too. “That was horrible. And— Jesus,” I say, feeling suddenly sick. “I tried to shoot you for it.”

She laughs.

Laughs, like I just made a joke.

“I’m serious, Nazeera. I could’ve killed you.”

Her smile fades when she realizes I’m serious. And then she looks at me, really looks at me. “That’s not possible.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but crack a smile at her certainty.

“You know,” she says softly, “I think there was a part of me that was really hoping you’d catch me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Otherwise—why didn’t I just fly away?”

I take a second to let that sink in.

And then—

Damn.

She’s right. I never stood a chance against this girl.

“Hey,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“You’re completely insane, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she says, and sighs.

And somehow, impossibly—

I’m smiling.

Carefully, I reach out, grazing her cheek with the tips of my fingers. She trembles under my touch. Closes her eyes.

My heart stops.

“Nazeera, I—”

A wild, piercing, bloodcurdling scream brings the moment to a halt.

Twelve

Nazeera and I share a split-second glance before we’re running again. I follow her through the woods, toward the source of the scream, but almost as quickly as it came—the world goes quiet. We rush to a sudden, confused stop, nearly falling over in the process. Nazeera turns to look at me, her eyes wide, but she’s not seeing me, not really.

She’s waiting. Listening.

Suddenly, she straightens. I don’t know what she heard, because I heard nothing. But I’ve already realized that this girl is way out of my league; I have no idea what other skills she possesses. No idea what else she’s capable of. But I do know that there’s no point doubting her mind. Not when it comes to shit like this.

So when she starts running again, I’m right behind her.

I realize we’re heading back toward the beginning, to the entrance of Nouria’s camp, when three more screams pierce the night. Then, suddenly— At least a hundred more.

And then I realize where Nazeera is headed. Out. Out of the Sanctuary, into unprotected land where we could too easily be found, captured, and killed. I hesitate, old doubts asking me if I’m crazy to trust her— “Stealth, Kenji— Now—”