Chapter Sixteen
Lucas
The others were still asleep, stretched out on couches or tucked into makeshift beds, but Annika looked peaceful, her face relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before. I touched her shoulder gently, whispering her name.
“Annika… come with me…”
She stirred, blinking up at me with that hazy look of waking, and then a small smile crept across her lips. “What’s going on?” she murmured, pushing herself up.
“You’ll see,” I whispered back. “I’ve got something to show you.”
She followed me as I led her through the dimly lit corridors, up a winding staircase, our footsteps echoing in the silence. I glanced back at her a couple of times, catching the curiosity in her eyes, the trace of excitement that made her look almost like she belonged to another world—a world without darkness.
When we reached the roof, the sky stretched out in a deep blue expanse above us, stars glinting like shards of glass, and on the horizon, a hint of dawn just beginning to push through the edges of the night.
For a moment, we forgot that it wasn’t really there, that someone else was making us see everything there was around us. But right now, neither of us cared about that.
Annika’s breath caught as she looked out over the city, a blend of fading shadows and silver light. There was fog, but in it, there was a million flickering lights.
She looked at me, her eyes wide and soft with wonder. “This is beautiful…”
I nodded, unable to keep the small smile from my own face. “Sometimes, when everything seems impossible, you have to look at something that reminds you what it’s all for,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
I smiled, taking her by the hand. “Close your eyes.” She lifted a playful eyebrow at me, so I added, “please.”
That was when she obliged. I gazed at her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. I knew that I would never forget how she looked now.
I reached behind a small ledge where I’d hidden the blanket and a bit of food. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. I laid it all out as quickly as I could, then I stood by her side.
“You can open your eyes now,” I told her.
Her eyes widened at the sight, a look of shock mixed with something softer. I could see the vulnerability in her now. She wasn’t trying so hard to mask it.
She immediately noticed the strawberries on the plate. We mostly had canned food here, but there was a small patch of land that we turned into a greenhouse, using artificial sunlight. Somehow, against all odds, it would bear occasional fruit.
She knelt beside the plate, brushing her fingers over them. “Strawberries are my favorite,” she confessed. “How… how did you know?”
I shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Call it a hunch.”
The truth was, I’d overheard her mention it in passing, almost dismissively, one night in conversation. But the memory had stuck with me. Finding these little things hadn’t been easy, but seeing her face now, it felt more than worth it.
She looked up at me, and the disbelief in her eyes made me wonder if anyone had ever gone out of their way for her like this. “Lucas… you didn’t have to do this.”
It was such a simple thing. Just strawberries.
At first, I thought it was a stupid idea. She had probably gotten much better gifts from other men, much more valuable ones. But here… strawberries were priceless. I didn’t know if she would understand that. From the looks of it, she did.
“Maybe not,” I said, sitting down beside her on the blanket, the morning air cool against our faces. “But you’ve been through hell, Annika. I figured you could use something good—something familiar.”
She hesitated, then reached for a small strawberry, savoring the taste, her lips curling into a smile.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and that look in her eyes, that warmth, had me completely undone.
As we sat there, a soft warmth spreading between us, I found myself wanting to fill the silence with words—my words, her words. I wanted to hear her voice, learn more about the little things that made her, her. Maybe I was giving too much of myself away, but with Annika, it felt natural.
“So, what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but never did?” I asked, trying to keep it light, though I felt an inexplicable pull to know more, to dig a little deeper.
She tilted her head, thinking. “Well,” she said, a faint smile playing at the corner of her mouth, “I always wanted to learn how to surf. I know, totally impractical. But it’s one of those things… I’d see pictures, read about it, feel that draw to try it myself. There’s just never been time.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Not sure I’d be any good.”
The idea of her on some sunlit beach, braving the waves, was so far removed from this world we’d fallen into. But I could almost see it, and something in me tightened. “It’d suit you, I think,” I said. “Fearless.”
She laughed, her eyes meeting mine. “Fearless? You’ve seen me run from wolves, Lucas. You’re the fearless one here.”
I shook my head, a little smile tugging at my lips. “Running isn’t the opposite of fearlessness. Sometimes fear makes us more human. But that doesn’t make you any less brave.” I paused, feeling her gaze on me, and continued. “What about your favorite book? I know it’s impossible to pick just one, but if you had to.”
She brightened a little, a hint of surprise crossing her face as if no one had asked her that in years. “The Count of Monte Cristo,” she said, almost without hesitation. “The story of fighting back, of overcoming everything, becoming something stronger in the end. Not giving up, even when the world’s against you.”
I nodded slowly, letting that sink in. “Fitting,” I murmured. “You’ve got a bit of that spirit in you yourself.”
She looked away, a faint blush on her cheeks, and the silence that settled was comfortable, easy. For a few breaths, it was just us—two souls in this strange, fractured world, learning each other’s edges and dreaming of places we might never reach.
“What about you?” she asked, breaking the silence. “What’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?”
I hesitated. There were things I kept buried so deep they rarely saw daylight, much less the early light of dawn. But with her, somehow, the words found their way out.
“I once thought I’d end up leading my clan, building something better for our kind. There were… expectations. But that life was ripped away.” I let out a low, humorless laugh. “I’ve been angry at the world for it ever since.”
She was quiet for a moment, absorbing that. Then, almost too softly, she said, “Maybe you still will. Build something better, I mean.”
“Hope should always be the last thing to disappear,” I agreed.
Then suddenly, she started asking me questions. Random questions, things I didn’t see coming, things that seemed almost childlike in their curiosity.
“What’s your favorite color?” she asked, and her face was so serious I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Color?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “After everything we’ve been through, that’s what you want to know?”
She shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “Humor me,” she said, feigning indignation, but her grin gave her away.
I tried to think about it, though the question itself was so out of place it felt strange. “Black, I guess. Though I know it’s not much of a color. It just… feels like home.”
She laughed at that, rolling her eyes. “Of course, you’d say black. Vampires and their love for dark colors. What a shocker.”
“Oh, yeah? What about you?” I countered, crossing my arms, daring her to answer.
She looked thoughtful, almost like she was weighing her answer. “Green,” she said after a moment. “It’s the color of hope, of growth—even if it’s hidden under dirt and shadows, it always finds its way back.”
Hearing her say it like that—there was a quiet resilience in her, and I could tell this wasn’t just small talk to her. But then, before I could say anything back, she hit me with another question, grinning mischievously.
“If you weren’t a vampire, what do you think you’d be doing right now?”
I laughed out loud, and she joined in, the two of us sharing this unexpected moment of levity. “Not sure. Farmer? Librarian? Hard to picture anything too peaceful, given… well.” I gestured to myself.
She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I could definitely see you as a librarian,” she teased. “All brooding, organizing ancient books no one’s allowed to touch.”
It was a ridiculous thought, and I chuckled again, realizing I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like this—freely, without restraint. She was unfolding a side of herself I hadn’t seen, a side that was light and bright, hidden beneath everything that had happened.
“All right, all right, here’s a real one,” she said, eyes alight. “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”
I chuckled, pretending to ponder it like it was some great philosophical question. “Are we not counting my longevity and vampire strength? Because if so, I’m pretty sure I’m already at the top tier here.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “No, I mean something totally new. Like flying. Or mind-reading.”
I paused, looking up at the night sky as if the answer was written there. “Flying does sound nice,” I said. “But… maybe teleportation. Less time spent dodging trouble on the way back here every night.”
She laughed at that, shaking her head. “Of course, you’d pick something practical. I bet if I asked you for a second power, it’d be ‘unlimited memory storage’ or something equally boring.”
I raised a brow, feigning offense. “Hey, are you saying I’m boring?”
She smirked, clearly enjoying herself. “Maybe just a little.” Her grin softened. “Okay, here’s one more—last one, I swear. If you could be any animal, what would you be?”
“Is that even a question?” I scoffed. “A wolf, obviously.”
“Oh no, that’s too predictable. You have to pick something else,” she said, grinning widely.
I threw my hands up in surrender. “Fine. Then… a hawk, maybe. I wouldn’t mind the perspective, seeing things from above, keeping an eye on everything.”
She nodded approvingly. “A hawk, huh? Majestic, sharp-eyed, kind of mysterious. Yeah, I could see that.”
“What about you?” I shot back, leaning closer. “Let me guess… something colorful, unpredictable. A fox, maybe?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “A fox, huh? That’s… interesting.” She took a moment to think, then looked back up with a sly grin. “I think I’d be a dolphin. Free, clever, always in motion.”
I nodded, smiling, realizing it suited her more than she knew. “That fits,” I murmured.
Suddenly, a stillness settled between us, and something felt different. Her laughter had faded, and she was looking at me in that way… like she was literally seeing me, maybe for the first time. I felt the air change, something unspoken humming between us, pulling me closer and closer.
Before I even knew what I was doing, I leaned in. I brushed a stray piece of hair back from her face, and she didn’t move away. Her eyes stayed on mine, wide and steady, like she was waiting, even daring me. The way she looked at me…it made everything else fall away.
I kissed her—softly at first, testing the waters, but then I felt her lean into it, responding, drawing me in like she’d been waiting for this too. There was a warmth in it, something that reached down deeper than I’d let myself feel in years. In that kiss, the world outside faded, the headquarters, the rebels, the fight—all of it gone.
It was just her and me, wrapped up in a moment I didn’t want to end.