32. We're not animals, Communicator.
"Good."
Then he says nothing more. For a moment he just stares at me, and I catch myself doing the same.
"We should go to my aunt. From there we could plan how to actually..." I pause, goosebumps rising on my arms as I imagine standing in front of my aunt and introducing him as... well, as what exactly?
"Get Miller?" he finishes for me.
"Yes. Well, no, because if we wanted to get to Miller we'd actually have to somehow break into—"
"—the Communication Development Center Headquarters."
"Yes." I swallow hard. "Exactly."
He watches me. "Where does your aunt live exactly?"
"She lives on the outskirts of the city, close to the..." I stop myself.
"Close to what?"
"Close to the Reserve." The words come out in a rush.
The change in him is instant. His jaw clenches, his hands curl into fists at his sides.
"The Reserve," he repeats, and his voice drops to barely above a whisper. "Of course."
The Reserve. That's what we call the facility where they keep captured wolves. Officially it's for "research and diplomatic purposes," but everyone knows what it really is. A prison. Insurance. In case things go bad again, we have leverage.
I wonder if wolves have done the same thing—if somewhere there are humans locked up in cages. I want to ask him, but looking at his face right now, I don't think this is the time.
"How many?" The question comes out sharp, cutting.
"How many what?"
"How many of my people are in there?"
My throat tightens. "I... I don't know. The numbers aren't public."
He nods once, a bitter smile twisting his lips.
He looks at me for a long moment, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.
"I know where this is. Let's go." His voice is steadier now.
"How do we—"
He's already moving toward me. Without warning, his hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with surprising gentleness given the conversation we just had. "We'll take a way humans don't know about."
The warmth of his palm against mine sends an unexpected flutter through my chest, but I push the feeling aside.
"You know I can walk alone, right? You don't have to hold my hand—it's daylight, I can see, it's not raining. I'm capable of—"
"—I know you are capable."
"Oh." I shut up. I know I'm being overly sensitive, but I don't want to be looked down upon, especially... especially not by him.
"Communicator," he repeats, his voice softer. "I know you are capable. I know you don't need me to walk." He pauses. "Maybe I just like holding your hand."
I am silent. I like this newfound honesty.
"Are there going to be more underground tunnels?" I ask.
He huffs.
"What?"
"Nothing. Come on."
He leads me through the trees, his hand still wrapped around mine. The forest here is different from before—older, with massive trunks that stretch impossibly high.
Eventually we reach what looks like a collection of old stones, all weathered and covered in moss.
He releases my hand and starts clearing away the green growth from one of the larger rocks. Underneath, something metallic catches the light, a sleek panel that's been built right into the stone, so perfectly hidden I never would have spotted it on my own.
He presses his palm against the panel, and there's a soft hum of technology. A section of what I thought was solid stone slides away silently, revealing a metal-lined entrance leading down.
I stare at the opening. This is nothing like the rough hideout from before.
"What is this?"
"Different access point." He starts down the metal steps.
I peer into the opening. "Access to what?"
"You'll see."
Of course. Mysterious answers, that one will probably never change.
The metal steps descend in a straight line. When we reach the bottom, he seals the entrance above us with another touch to a hidden panel. Advanced lighting systems activate automatically.
I stop and stare.
The walls are smooth brushed metal, the floor is polished to a mirror shine, and the lighting system is clearly state-of-the-art. The main corridor stretches in both directions, disappearing into the distance with perfect precision and clean lines.
"What... what is this place?" My voice echoes slightly in the space.
"Transport network." He starts walking down the left corridor. "Built during the territorial conflicts."
I follow him, still staring. My footsteps sound hollow on the polished floor. "This was built by wolves?" The corridor we're walking through could easily fit a vehicle. The engineering alone... "How is this even possible? This is... this is incredible."
"Yes." He pauses briefly. "The conflicts lasted for a long time. We needed infrastructure that humans couldn't find or destroy."
"But the construction, the materials... where did you get the metal? Steel? The electrical systems?" I run my hand along the wall, feeling the smooth surface. "This is advanced engineering."
"We're not animals, Communicator."
"I didn't mean—"
"I know."
We reach what looks like a security checkpoint—or what used to be one. Now it's just empty frames where scanners once stood.
"How extensive is this?" I ask, still trying to process what I'm seeing.
"Extensive." He leads me past the checkpoint to a platform where a sleek transport waits.
I stop walking entirely.
The vehicle is nothing like anything I've ever seen before—streamlined, silent, clearly designed for speed. Its surface seems to shimmer in the artificial light, and there are no visible wheels or tracks.
"This is..." I can't finish the sentence. I approach it slowly, like it might disappear if I move too quickly. "How does it work? What powers it? Is it magnetic?"
"Get in."
"But how—"
"Get in, Communicator."
I climb aboard, my mind racing. The interior is just as impressive as the exterior—smooth surfaces, controls that look like they belong in a spaceship, seats that adjust automatically to my body.
How many humans know about this?
Does the government know?
"Amazing," I whisper. "I never knew technology like this existed."
He settles into the seat across from me. When he reaches forward to press something on the control panel, the vehicle suddenly lurches forward, pressing me back into my seat with surprising force.
Outside the windows, tunnel walls flash by in the artificial light. We're moving faster than any train I've ever been on, but the ride is completely smooth.
"Incredible," I breathe, but he just smiles a tiny bit and leans back. He looks tired.
"You should rest," I say, settling back into my seat.
He nods, but tension still coils in his shoulders.
We sit in silence for a while. The steady rhythm of the transport is almost hypnotic. After a few minutes, his eyes drift closed, though I can tell he's not really relaxing.
I watch him, noting how his jaw remains tight even in rest, how his hands stay slightly clenched. His eyes open suddenly, catching me staring, and I feel heat flood my cheeks.
"Sorry," I mumble. "I didn't mean to—"
"You can look at me all you want, Communicator."
The way he says it, low and quiet, makes my stomach flip. I risk a glance back at him, and he's watching me with an expression that makes my pulse quicken.
"Thank you," I say suddenly, my voice softer than I intended.
"For what?"
"For..." I gesture vaguely at everything around us. "Protecting me from the wolf."
Something shifts in his expression at that last part.
"You don't need to thank me."
"Yes, I do. You could have just—"
"No," he interrupts me immediately. "I couldn't have."
The way he says it makes my chest tight. His gaze drops to my mouth for just a second before meeting my eyes again.
When he speaks, his voice is softer than I've ever heard it, rough around the edges. "Come here."
"You come here," I counter, my pulse hammering in my throat.
He just stares at me, his expression changing. Then he stands slowly, and I have to tilt my head back to look at him. The overhead lights throw harsh shadows under his cheekbones. He stands there looking down at me, and I'm suddenly very aware of how much bigger he is.
"Bossy," he murmurs.
"Maybe I am."