Alyssa POV
I’m walking. One step after the other. My legs ache, but I keep going. I refuse to stop.
Not for him.
Not for anyone.
The sun hangs low in the sky, casting gold over the trees, but I barely notice it. My focus is ahead—straight, unbending, cold.
Soldiers walk around us, some whispering, others staring like I’m some wild beast they’ve caged for the first time. Maybe I am.
I can feel Zev behind me.
His presence wraps around me like smoke—heavy, suffocating, familiar. I grit my teeth.
My fists curl. Every part of me is begging to turn around and leap at him, tear into him, scream into his face and make him bleed the way he made me bleed.
But I don’t.
I walk.
Because if I’m going to die—if this is the end—then I will do it with my head held high. With pride in my spine
