Sage

The early morning light filters into the small tent, soft and golden, catching the edges of Dash’s features as he sleeps. His arm is draped around my waist, his body a warm, solid weight pressed against mine. For a moment, I let myself stay there, tucked into the quiet comfort of him. It’s rare to wake up like this—to feel safe, to feel… content.

My head rests against his chest, rising and falling with his steady breath. His hand, still loosely resting on my hip, shifts slightly as he stirs, but he doesn’t wake. There’s something grounding about the way he holds me, even in sleep, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I close my eyes, letting the warmth settle over me for a little longer. But the reality of the day creeps in, unbidden and sharp. The moment shatters, replaced by a tide of thoughts I can’t push away.

The Accord camp. Alicia. Reeves. The women here who are running out of hope. The tension with Dash that lingers like a bruise I can’t quite soothe.

I sigh quietly, trying to ease out from under Dash’s arm without waking him. His grip tightens instinctively, pulling me closer.

“You’re not sneaky, you know,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

I huff a soft laugh, my head tilting back to meet his gaze. His eyes are half-open, warm and sleepy, but the tension from yesterday still lingers there, just beneath the surface.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” I say softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

He leans into my touch for just a second before releasing me, rolling onto his back with a groan. “You didn’t. The sun did.”

I sit up, pulling the blanket around my shoulders to keep the chill of the morning air at bay. “We have a lot to do today,” I say, more to myself than to him.

He stretches, his voice quiet but pointed. “Too much.”

The edge in his tone makes my chest tighten. Yesterday’s tension is still there, sitting between us like an unspoken barrier. I glance over at him, watching as he scrubs a hand over his face, his jaw tight.

“You okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light, though the weight in my chest threatens to spill into the words.

He nods, but the movement feels more automatic than genuine. “I’m fine,” he says, sitting up. “Just thinking about what needs to get done.”

“Same,” I murmur, though I know we’re thinking about very different things.

The easy warmth of waking up in his arms is already slipping away, replaced by the cold reality of everything we’re dealing with. And while I know Dash means well—always means well—his protectiveness feels heavier than ever, like it’s closing in on me even when I want to lean into him.

I stand, grabbing my jacket from the corner of the tent. “I’ll go grab some water,” I say, avoiding his gaze. “We’ll need to meet with Alicia and get ready for the next negotiation.”

He watches me for a beat, his expression unreadable, before nodding. “I’ll be ready.”

The weight of his words follows me out of the tent, settling in my chest as I head toward the camp’s water station.

The Accord camp is already stirring, the sharp barks of orders cutting through the quiet morning air. Women move between tents, some carrying supplies, others tending to small fires. The oppressive atmosphere is still there, a constant reminder of the power dynamics Reeves has created.

As I fill a canteen, I let my mind wander back to Dash. The way he held me this morning, so warm and steady, felt like a promise—but now, that warmth feels distant, buried under layers of tension and fear.

I hate it.

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I hate that we’re here, that this place has us both on edge, that the safety we’ve fought so hard for feels like it’s slipping through my fingers. And I hate that I don’t know how to bridge the gap forming between us.

But there’s no time to dwell on it. Not today.

I cap the canteen and turn back toward the tent, steeling myself for whatever the day will bring. For now, all I can do is focus on the task at hand and hope that somewhere in the chaos, Dash and I will find our way back to each other.

By the time I reach the spot where Alicia and I agreed to meet, the sun has climbed higher, casting long shadows across the camp. I spot her standing near a cluster of trees, her arms crossed as she waits. She looks as composed as ever, but I can see the subtle tightness in her posture, the flicker of something like unease in her expression.

I don’t blame her. I feel it too.

As I approach, she nods once in greeting, but before I can say anything, a sharp voice cuts through the air.

“Ladies.”

Reeves strides toward us, his smugness radiating off him like a bad cologne. He’s flanked by two of his men, and though they hang back slightly, their presence is enough to make the air feel heavier.

Alicia stiffens beside me, her jaw tightening. “Reeves,” she says evenly, though her tone carries a distinct chill.

I force a neutral expression, hiding my frustration. I’d hoped for a few minutes alone with Alicia to strategize, but clearly, Reeves has other plans.

“Thought I’d join you,” Reeves says, his tone dripping with mock pleasantness. “Wouldn’t want any misunderstandings in today’s discussion.”

I glance at Alicia, catching the flicker of annoyance in her eyes before she schools her expression into something unreadable.

“Of course,” I say smoothly, keeping my tone neutral. “We’re just about to start.”

Reeves grins, clearly enjoying the way he’s thrown us off balance. “Excellent. Let’s get to it, then.”

Alicia takes a slow breath, then gestures to a nearby log. “Shall we sit?”

Reeves doesn’t move, instead clasping his hands behind his back as he surveys us. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

Great. Because this wasn’t uncomfortable enough already.

Alicia shoots me a quick look, a silent exchange that’s equal parts irritation and resignation. She adjusts her stance, her arms still crossed as she faces Reeves head-on.

“We’re still where we left off yesterday,” she begins, her tone crisp. “I’ve made my position clear.”

Reeves smirks, leaning slightly toward her. “Yes, yes, you’ve made your demands. But I’m not seeing much in the way of compromise.”

Alicia’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t look away. “Compromise doesn’t mean letting you dictate terms that endanger my people.”

The air between them crackles with tension, and I step in before things can spiral.

“What if we revisit the pipeline project?” I say, keeping my tone calm but deliberate. “It’s a shared resource that benefits everyone. If we focus on collaboration there, it could create a foundation for mutual trust.”

Reeves arches an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “And what does ‘collaboration’ mean in this context, Sage?”

“It means her people contributing to the work,” I reply, holding his gaze. “Stationing a small team near Branson’s camp to oversee the pipeline. It keeps the project moving forward while maintaining clear boundaries.”

Alicia stays silent, letting me take the lead.

Reeves tilts his head, studying me. “And what stops them from using that position to coordinate against us?”

“That’s where oversight comes in,” I say evenly. “Shared responsibility ensures accountability on both sides.”

Reeves hums, clearly mulling it over, but his skepticism doesn’t waver.

“And what does Alicia’s camp get out of this arrangement?” he asks, his tone sharp.

I glance at Alicia, silently signaling her to step in.

“We get the breathing room we’ve been asking for,” Alicia says, her voice firm. “Your patrols stay clear of our camp. My people don’t need to be babysat—we’ve made that abundantly clear.”

Reeves snorts, shaking his head. “Still sounds like you’re asking for a lot without giving much in return.”

“Respect isn’t a handout,” Alicia fires back, her tone ice-cold. “And if you’re too short-sighted to see how the pipeline benefits everyone, that’s your problem. Besides, in sending some of my people to the pipeline, I am creating a vulnerability within my camp by lessening my numbers.”

Reeves straightens, his smirk fading for the first time. I can see the calculation in his eyes, the way he’s trying to gauge how far he can push us without breaking the fragile threads of this negotiation.

“Let’s be clear,” he says finally, his voice low. “I’m not here to play games. If you want my cooperation, you’d better come back with something worth my time tomorrow. Otherwise…” He trails off, letting the implied threat linger.

Alicia doesn’t flinch, her gaze steady. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Reeves gives a sharp nod, then turns on his heel and walks away, his men following close behind.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Alicia exhales sharply, muttering a curse under her breath.

“He’s insufferable,” she says, running a hand through her hair.

I nod, my shoulders still tense. “But predictable. He’s testing us, trying to see how far he can push.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, the calculation returning. “And tomorrow?”

“We give him just enough to think he’s won,” I say. “But on our terms.”

Alicia’s lips twitch into a faint smile. “I hope you’re as good at this as you seem to think you are, Sage.”

“Me too,” I admit, though there’s a flicker of doubt in my chest.

We both know what’s at stake, and as we head back toward the camp, the weight of the day settles heavily on my shoulders. Tomorrow will be the real test. And I can only hope we’re ready.