The twins had long since fallen asleep, their soft snores muffled by closed bedroom doors. Alexia waited until the house was still, until even the creaks in the wood seemed to fade, then slipped silently into the night. Her oversized sweater clung to her in the chill air as she moved quickly through the alleys, like a shadow blending with the darkness.
The Resistance’s hideout wasn’t far—a forgotten warehouse with rusted doors and boarded windows. Inside, dim lanterns flickered against the cracked walls, throwing long shadows across the room. Javier stood near the center, arms crossed, posture sharp as always. Gale leaned casually against a crate, but his eyes never really left Alexia.
“You’re late,” Javier said, his voice gravel and steel.
Alexia ignored the comment and folded her arms
