EMBER’S POV
Dinner comes together faster than I expected — some kind of pasta dish with roasted vegetables and garlic bread that fills the safehouse with smells rich enough to make my stomach cramp with hunger.
I didn’t realize how empty I was until the food was in front of me.
We eat at the small table, all four of us crammed together, and for a little while it almost feels normal.
Like we’re just friends sharing a meal, not fugitives hiding out in a safehouse while enemies circle and conspiracies unravel.
Queenie chatters about the Summit, about Rayana holding down the fort, about a hundred small pieces of gossip that don’t matter but help fill the silence.
She’s good at that — filling silences. Making spaces feel warmer than they are.
Knox sits close to me, his thigh pressed agai
