Dash

I’m halfway through inventory checks when one of the camp runners bolts up to me and Sage, practically tripping over their own feet. “Emergency—shelter five!” they gasp, wide-eyed.

I tense, expecting something serious. Maybe an injury, or worse, an Accord issue. My hand instinctively moves toward my knife, but Sage just raises an eyebrow.

“Emergency?” she asks calmly, already on her feet.

The runner nods, swallowing hard. “It’s, uh… kind of a fight. A bad one.”

Sage exchanges a look with me, her calm like a tether, before she strides off toward the shelter. I follow, every muscle ready for action.

We step inside to chaos.

Two men are standing over a third, who’s tied to a chair, arms crossed over their chests like self-appointed guards. The tied guy—Rick, I realize—is looking as sheepish as I’ve ever seen him, trying to talk his way out of whatever mess he’s made.

On the other side of the shelter, two women are practically nose-to-nose, shouting over each other, their words a blur of accusations and rage.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath, stepping up beside Sage.

She surveys the scene with a slow, deliberate sweep of her eyes. Then, like a whipcrack, her voice cuts through the chaos.

“Enough!”

Everyone freezes. Even I find myself standing a little straighter.

Sage crosses her arms, her gaze sharp and unyielding as she takes it all in. She points at Rick first, her tone icy. “You. Care to explain why you’re tied to a chair? Or should I take a wild guess?”

Rick stammers, trying to look anywhere but at her. “It’s, uh… it’s a misunderstanding, Sage. I didn’t—”

“Oh, it’s definitely not a misunderstanding,” one of the women snaps, her arms flailing as she glares at him.

“You’ve been hooking up with both of us, Rick!” the other woman shouts, her voice rising. “For weeks!”

Rick winces, but before he can open his mouth, Sage cuts him off. “Stop. Right there.” Her voice is low but firm, and it lands like a hammer. She turns her attention to the two men looming over Rick. “Untie him. Right now.”

They hesitate, glancing at each other.

Sage’s eyes narrow. “Or are we just tying people up now for bad dating choices? Untie him. I’m not asking again.”

Reluctantly, the men untie Rick, who immediately slouches like a wet rag, muttering something under his breath. Sage ignores him, turning to the women.

“You didn’t know about each other, right?” she asks, her voice softer now, though it still holds that unshakable authority.

Both women nod, arms crossed defensively.

“Then here’s a thought: stop fighting each other. You’ve got a common enemy sitting right there.” She jerks her thumb toward Rick, who shifts uncomfortably.

Stolen novel; please report.

One of the women huffs, her glare darting between Rick and the other woman. “Yeah, well…” she starts, but her voice falters.

Sage steps closer, her tone steady and calm. “Listen, I get it. He made you angry—hurt you. And you’re right to be upset. But fighting each other isn’t going to fix this. He’s the one who lied, who broke your trust. If you want to be angry, fine. Be angry at him. But don’t waste your energy tearing each other down over someone who didn’t deserve either of you.”

The women exchange looks, their expressions softening ever so slightly.

“And you,” Sage says, turning to Rick. He looks up, startled. “This isn’t the first time you’ve caused problems here, and it won’t be the last unless you figure out how to act like an adult. One more issue, and you’re out. Do you understand me?”

Rick mumbles something incoherent, and Sage takes a step closer, her presence towering despite her smaller frame. “I said, do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he mutters, not meeting her eyes.

She nods, satisfied, then looks at the women again. “I’m serious. Don’t waste your energy on this. You’ve both got bigger things to focus on than him. Don’t let this guy cost you more than he already has.”

There’s a long pause, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Then one of the women mutters, “Fine.”

“Fine,” the other echoes.

Sage takes a step back, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Good. Now, go cool off. All of you.”

As the women leave, shooting Rick dirty looks on their way out, I watch the shift in the room—the way Sage defused what could’ve been a disaster.

Rick sulks toward the door, mumbling something under his breath, and I step forward, blocking his path. “Better hope you didn’t mean that,” I say, low enough that only he hears. He pales and stumbles out without another word.

The room empties, leaving just Sage and me.

“You didn’t even break a sweat,” I say, shaking my head in awe.

She scoffs, brushing her hair back from her face. “It’s just people being people.”

“Sure didn’t feel like ‘just people.’” I step closer, studying her. “You make it look easy.”

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the faintest flicker of a smile before she turns away, busying herself with straightening the chairs.

I reach out, resting a hand on her shoulder. She glances back, her expression softening.

“Seriously,” I say, my voice low. “You’re something else, Sage.”

For a second, she holds my gaze, her lips parting slightly like she’s about to say something. But then she shakes her head, letting out a quiet laugh. “Let’s just hope Rick keeps it together for a while.”

I grin. “If not, I’m sure you’ll handle it.”

As Sage finishes straightening the chairs, her movements slow, her focus somewhere far away. I watch her, my chest tightening with the weight of everything I’ve been feeling lately. It’s been building—this pull between us—and the moments keep piling up: the way her hand lingers in mine, the way she leans into me like it’s instinct now.

I can’t stop thinking about that night, how close I came to crossing that line. Hell, how close we both were. It’s like her presence pulls me in without me even realizing it. And now, standing here with her, the shelter quiet, I feel it again—that pull, that need to close the space between us.

She turns toward me, catching me watching her, and something flickers in her eyes. She tilts her head, her expression soft but questioning, like she’s waiting for me to say something, to do something.

I take half a step closer, my hand brushing hers as I lean just a fraction forward. My gaze drops to her lips before I can stop it, and I feel my pulse quicken.

Just kiss her. It’s so simple. One step, and everything shifts.

But my brain catches up to my body, throwing on the brakes. Not here, I think. Not like this. After the mess we just cleaned up, after the tension of the camp… It’s too much. It’s not the right time.

I pull back, clearing my throat, my hand falling away. “You handled that like a pro,” I say instead, my voice a little too rough.

Her smile falters, and for just a second, disappointment flashes across her face—so quick I might’ve missed it if I wasn’t watching her so closely. But I did see it. And it hits me square in the chest.

She recovers fast, brushing it off like it’s nothing, but the way she averts her gaze makes my stomach twist. She doesn’t press, doesn’t call me out, but I can see the question lingering in her eyes: Why didn’t you?

Dammit, Dash.

I shove my hands in my pockets, resisting the urge to reach for her again. The tension between us doesn’t ease—it’s thick, humming in the quiet space like it’s mocking me for being such a coward.

Tonight, I promise myself. Tonight.

No more second-guessing, no more hesitating. Because if I keep holding back, keep letting her slip away, I might lose the one chance I’ve got to turn this into something real.

“Ready to head back?” I ask, keeping my voice steady, casual.

She nods, her expression unreadable now, and I hate that I can’t tell what she’s thinking. “Yeah,” she says simply, heading toward the door.

I follow her out, already planning how I’ll make this right.

Tonight. For real this time.