Page 23 of Beast in the Badlands
“Why do you look so lost?”
Renn’s voice cuts through the night like a blade, rough yet smooth enough to stir something deep inside me. I didn’t hear him approach. I turn my head slowly, surprised to find him sitting next to me, his form silhouetted against the fading glow of the med bay.
“I thought you were asleep,” I reply, forcing a small smile that feels foreign on my lips.
He leans back on his hands, his long limbs stretching out beside me. “I was resting,” he says simply, “but not sleeping.”
Silence envelops us for a moment. He seems to be studying me—those red eyes absorbing every detail like a predator assessing its prey.
“What was it like?” he finally asks. “Being a medic for the Coalition?”
I hesitate, memories bubbling to the surface like old wounds reopening. “Long hours,” I say softly. “Exhausting work… and it felt pointless at times.”
His brow furrows slightly as he listens intently.
“Most days I wondered if I’d make any difference at all.” My voice grows stronger as I speak about my passion for healing others. “But there were moments—when someone would wake up after surgery or when you could help ease someone's pain—that made it worthwhile.”
He nods slowly. “You had hope then.”
“Hope is a luxury we can’t afford now,” I reply, looking back at the stars that glimmer above us—a bittersweet reminder of everything lost.
Renn shifts closer; our knees almost touch as he asks about my time before all this chaos—the life that seems so far away now.
“I remember late nights studying anatomy books,” I share with a hint of nostalgia creeping into my voice. “And mornings filled with coffee and laughter with classmates who thought we could change the world.”
“And then it all fell apart,” he says quietly, his tone reflective.
“Yeah.” A lump forms in my throat as memories of shouts and screams invade my mind—the chaos surrounding ourevacuation and losing friends along the way. "And my brother… I can't eventhinkhis name anymore."
His gaze locks onto mine, and something shifts in the space between us—an unspoken understanding threading through our silence.
“What about you?” I ask suddenly to break the tension hanging heavily around us.
He leans back slightly, folding his arms over his knees as if searching for words buried deep within him. “We fought hard in those early campaigns—like feral dogs unleashed on worlds we barely understood.” His voice drops lower, darker than before. “Too many died... too many innocent lives caught in our crossfire.”
His confession lingers in the air—a raw wound exposed under dim light—and I feel an ache for him too.
“You did what you had to do,” I whisper, searching for comfort in my own words even as doubt seeps through them.
“I didn’t have to enjoy it,” he murmurs back softly, and there’s weight behind those words—a lifetime spent battling inner demons and ghosts that haunt him still.
Renn sits there for a moment before reaching for something on his opposite side. He brushes his fingers against mine as he hands me a drink—a makeshift concoction from scavenged supplies. The warmth radiates from his skin where our hands meet; it sends an unexpected thrill coursing through me.
I don’t pull away. Instead, I draw toward him and I swear he leans toward me, too.
Our foreheads brush together tentatively—a soft connection shared between us without pressure or expectation—and neither pulls away despite the proximity that should feel wrong but doesn’t at all.
The moment stretches on—hot and fragile—as if we’re teetering on the edge of something we both know is dangerous but somehow inevitable.
I pull back first, breathing unevenly as reality settles back into place around us.
“I need to sleep,” I murmur, turning toward the med bay door without looking back.
Renn doesn’t stop me; but his gaze lingers on me until I slip inside—a warmth pooling in my chest as if part of me knows that nothing will ever be quite the same again.
CHAPTER 19
RENN
