They nodded, each leaning down to press a quick kiss to Bex’s cheek before slipping from the tent with a quiet resolve. Watching them both walk out, shoulder to shoulder, felt like watching the heart of this rebellion leave to start beating.
Devrin lingered a moment longer. He turned to me, extended his hand, and we clasped forearms like soldiers do.
“It’s a hell of a plan,” he said, voice lower , serious.
“It’ll work,” I replied, my voice firmer than I felt, but I had to believe it.
He smiled faintly, a curve of something both weary and hopeful. “I hope you’re right.” Then, without another word, he disappeared through the flaps.
Only Bex and Zaffir remained now.
Zaffir had drifted silently to Bex’s side. He pulled her into a soft, protective embrace, wrapping his arms around her like she might still vanish if he blinked too long.
I watched him touch her gently, brush a strand of hair from her face like she was something fragile, sacred.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek, almost reverent.
“You too,” she whispered back, and I could hear the truth trembling in her voice.
“I never felt as scared as I did when I heard Veritas give the order” he said. “I’ve been gathering footage for years. The things Praxis cut, manipulated, erased entirely. I’ve got drives full of their darkest secrets. Edited trials. Fabricated charges. Executions dressed as disappearances. Didn’t know what I’d do with it, if anything. But I think deep down I knew one day I’d need it.”
His voice tightened, fury brimming beneath it.
“I’m gonna take everything they buried,” he said, “and make sure the whole damn world sees it.”
Bex leaned forward and kissed him. There was nothing rushed about it, just something deeply grateful, and quiet, and alive. His hands found her waist, held her like she was gravity itself.
And strangely… I didn’t feel jealous.
Maybe it was the way he loved her, fierce and loud and without apology. Or maybe it was because, after everything we’d been through, watching the girl I loved be loved so openly felt… right. Maybe love, in its truest form, was meant to be shared, not owned.
When they finally parted, Zaffir turned to me. There was something different in his eyes now. Purpose. Fire.
“I’ve got some editing to do,” he said with a small smile.
I gave him a nod.
He slipped through the tent flaps without another word, the momentum of revolution humming in his wake.
And just like that, Bex and I were alone.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Bex
Briar steppedtoward me in the hush of the tent.
The plan was made. The waves were set.
Tomorrow, the first wave was going to infiltrate Praxis. Hopefully.
“You look nervous,” she said softly, stopping in front of me. Her fingers lifted to gently cradle my chin, and I leaned into her touch without hesitation.
“Aren’t you?” I asked.
She shook her head once, slow and certain. “I’ve made peace with the risks. I’m ready.”