Talia’s POV
By evening, the entire Misfit camp had come alive. Bonfires burn beneath the darkening sky while long tables overflow with food, drinks, and desserts. Music drifts through the camp as the exhausted warriors finally allow themselves a night to breathe and celebrate their survival.
It is a tradition. We celebrate after every battle, a legacy Axton once told us never to abandon.
I stand near the bonfire, laughing with Luna, Greta, and Lyric. For once, I am not thinking about the war or what waits beyond the camp.
Across the fire, Bran keeps stealing glances at me. He looks as though he is considering coming over at any moment.
Before he can, Lyric and Greta turn towards him with expressions of such obvious innocence that I immediately become suspicious.
“Bran,” Lyric calls s
