Sage

Dash’s voice is quiet, barely cutting through the noise around the fire. “Wanna go home?”

I nod, giving him a small, tired smile, and we slip away from the camp, leaving the firelight and hushed conversations behind. The night air feels heavy but somehow quieter as we head toward the lean-to. My muscles finally start to unwind, tension fading as I fall into step beside him.

When we reach the lean-to, he pulls back the blankets, making space for both of us. I settle onto the bed, feeling the weight of the day settle deeper into my bones. Dash doesn’t say anything, but he lays beside me, his presence solid and steady, a warmth that cuts through the cold reality we’ve been surrounded by.

We’re both quiet, listening to the sounds of the night, and for a moment, it feels like the world outside has shrunk down to just this small space, just the two of us.

After a while, Dash turns, his gaze catching mine. “Greg’s comments tonight… I know they bothered you.” His voice is low, careful.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “It’s more than that,” I admit, pressing my hands together to keep them from trembling. “It’s this whole… shift. The Accord creeping in. Greg… assuming he knows what’s real and what isn’t. It’s all been getting under my skin.”

Dash watches me, something protective flickering in his eyes. “I don’t like it either. Especially not the way Greg acts like he’s on our side, but…” He lets the words trail off, his mouth tightening. “Feels like he’s just waiting to get close to you.”

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I nod, the weight of his words pressing into me. “I feel it too. And the thing is, he keeps trying to poke holes in us, in what we have together, like he’s testing to see if he can get through.” I let out a frustrated breath. “And the Accord men… they’re just watching, not even pretending to respect our space. I’m sick of feeling so—exposed.”

Dash shifts closer, his arm resting against mine, a subtle, grounding touch that steadies me. “Look, Sage, whatever you need to feel more secure… I’m here. I mean it.” His gaze is firm, his voice low but unbreakable.

I nod, feeling a flicker of gratitude and something warmer, something I shove aside. “Thanks, Dash.” I manage a small smile, looking down. “I feel like every time you put your arm around me or stand close… it’s not just for show. It’s like you’re a wall between me and all of it, even for a moment.”

Dash’s mouth quirks into a faint smile, something softening in his expression. “Then I’ll keep being that wall. As long as you need.”

The quiet stretches between us, a gentle silence that feels more comforting than any words. I shift to my side, finally letting myself exhale fully. And as we lay there, side by side, I feel a fragile sense of safety building—a small, stubborn flame against the darkness pressing in from every side.

After a while, Dash shifts, glancing over at me. “Think you’ll be able to sleep?”

I nod, though I’m not entirely sure. Dash surprises me when he pulls me into his arms, letting me rest my head on his chest. I feel as close to safe as I’ve felt in weeks.

“Goodnight, Dash,” I whisper, letting my eyes close, knowing he’s right here with me.

“Goodnight, Sage,” he replies, his voice a low murmur in the dark, that I can feel rumble in his chest. And with that, I drift into sleep, held together by his presence, the quiet strength of someone who won’t let go.