The safehouse wasn't what she expected.
Built into the cliffs above the glacial valley, it was a maze of tunnels, fires burning low behind thick steel doors, and people—so many people. Women, men, children, all survivors of something.
Aria walked through the corridors like a ghost. Every face turned to her with a mix of awe and fear.
"She's the Virell girl," someone whispered.
"No," another said. "She's the one who lit the signal."
Xander stayed close, watching her, but giving her space.
At the main chamber, Kell led them to a massive circular table covered in maps, photos, and red pins.
"We've got three weeks before they strike," he said. "They know the signal came from this zone. They'll come with fire."
"Then we hit first," Aria said, voice steady.
Kell raised a brow. "You sure you're ready for that?"
"I've been ready since the day they took her," she replied.
Later, when the camp had settled and the fire burned low, Xander found her sitting alone on the ledge, staring into the dark.
He sat beside her. "You haven't said much."
"I'm thinking," she said.
"About Amara?"
"About everything."
A pause.
Then, quietly, "You were right."
"About?"
"Us." She looked at him. "I tried to hate you, but I never could."
He reached for her hand. "Then don't."
They sat in silence as snow began to fall again—soft, slow, like the world was finally breathing again.
But the storm ahead was only just beginning.