CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The helicopter didn't come.
By dawn, the winged creatures had lost interest and flown toward the larger fires downtown. The barricade held. Olivia sat against the wall, her sword across her knees, drifting in and out of a sleep that wasn't really sleep—more like unconsciousness with anxiety attached.
Lucas kept watch, his face gaunt in the emergency lighting. Jenna had finally fallen asleep, curled around Mr. Whiskers' carrier, her face streaked with dried tears.
"Tell me about the factions," Olivia said quietly, not wanting to wake her friend.
Lucas glanced at her. "What?"
"You said there are awakened people. Organizations. Safe houses. That means there's structure, right? Even in chaos?"
He nodded slowly. "The Vanguard. They're military, mostly—government awakened who've been preparing for this.
Then there are the Covens. Magic users. They've known about the Veil for centuries, kept it secret.
The Hunters are independent—mercenaries, survivalists, people who just want to kill monsters and get paid.
And the Survivors... they're everyone else.
Normal people trying to live through the end of the world. "
"Which are we?"
"Right now? Survivors. But that won't last. The Vanguard will start recruiting soon. Consolidating territory, establishing safe zones, conscripting anyone who can hold a weapon."
"Conscripting?"
"Volunteering, technically. But when the alternative is dying in the wasteland, it's not much of a choice." Lucas's jaw tightened. "The Vanguard means well, mostly. But they're rigid. Hierarchical. They value strength above everything else, and their definition of strength is... narrow."
Olivia thought of Cass, of every person who'd ever looked at her body and assumed weakness. "They won't want me."
"They won't see what I see."
"And what do you see?"
Lucas was quiet for a moment. Then he moved, sliding down the wall to sit beside her, their shoulders touching.
"I see someone who threw herself at a stone monster to protect a person she cares about.
I see someone who trained for years without encouragement, without support, without anyone believing in her.
I see someone who could have given up a thousand times and never did.
" He turned his head, his green eyes meeting hers in the dim light.
"I see the strongest person I know, Olivia. And I don't mean physically."
Olivia's throat tightened. "Lucas—"
"I know. Wrong time. Apocalypse, monsters, not appropriate." He smiled sadly. "But the world's ending, and I've spent two months falling for you, and I figured I should probably say it before a bat-creature melts my face off."
Olivia stared at him. "You—what?"
"I like you. A lot. In a deeply unprofessional, completely inappropriate, probably suicidal way. There. I said it. You can laugh, or run away, or—"
Olivia kissed him.
It wasn't graceful. It wasn't cinematic. Their n bumped, her sword clattered to the floor, and she pulled back after two seconds because she was terrified and exhilarated and completely overwhelmed.
"Sorry," she breathed. "I don't know why I did that. Actually, I do know. I've wanted to do that for weeks. But I shouldn't have—"
Lucas caught her face in his hands and kissed her properly. It was soft and fierce and tasted like copper and hope, and when they finally broke apart, Olivia's entire body felt like it was vibrating at a frequency only she could hear.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. That happened."
"It did."
"We're probably going to die."
"Probably."
"So that was either the best decision of my life or the stupidest."
Lucas grinned—that real grin, the one that transformed his face from handsome to devastating. "I've always liked stupid decisions."
They sat in companionable, terrified silence, holding hands in the stairwell while the world burned.
"When we survive this," Olivia said, "you're buying me actual dinner. Not pizza. Something with candles."
"Candles. Got it."
"And you're telling me everything. Your whole story. No more secrets."
"Everything," he agreed.
"And then we're going to figure out how to save the world."
Lucas squeezed her hand. "Save the world. Simple. I like your ambition, Thornwood."
"I learned from the best."
"Valeria Vance?"
"You."
His smile softened into something vulnerable and beautiful. "Then we'd better not die. I have a reputation to maintain."