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I thought about all of those hopeless faces. The humans who’d been imprisoned in this labor camp. There were others—more camps, more prisoners, more tragedies waiting to happen. How could I run away knowing there was so much work left to be done? I’d spent so much time longing for my own freedom as some sort of payment for the ills I’d suffered, but there were so many others who needed help.
“Thanks for the offer, but running away isn’t my style.” I squeezed his hand. “I don’t think it’s yours, either.” And that was one of the things I liked most about him.
“But—”
I shook my head. “I don’t love Saga and Icarus’s methods, but that doesn’t mean they’re wrong about needing to overthrow the Troika or the role I need to play in that. Before I came on this mission, I was ready to walk away and never look back. But now?” I looked around the car at each face, once so bleak, barely more than walking corpses. Now, for the first time in years, they were smiling, daring to hope for their future.
I smiled at Zed through tears of my own. “Now, I understand that this is worth fighting for.”
He tilted his head and squeezed my hand.
When he kissed me, it was soft and quick, a promise instead of a demand.
And for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to hope for my own future.
