There is no us

She ran. The alley still wet from the rain, her boots skidding over the cracked pavement, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not with the blood soaking through her shirt, warm and thick against her ribs. Not with the pain clawing up her side. The city lights blurred behind her as she sprinted into the trees. The moment she crossed into the forest, the world seemed to hold its breath. The sharp scent of pine filled her lungs, the cool night air biting against her sweat-soaked skin. She staggered forward, hands clutching her side, nagging her to keep going—just a little further. Then the ground rushed up to meet her. Darkness swallowed her whole. She woke to warmth. Soft fabric beneath her, the faint rustling of canvas overhead. A tent. The scent of damp earth and firewood surrounded her, grounding her before she even opened her eyes. Pain flared the second she moved. She sucked in a sharp breath, blinking up at the canvas roof. Her side was bandaged now—someone had tended to her wound. But who? Were they mocking her? Keeping her alive long enough for him to finish it off? As if in answer, footsteps approached. The tent flap lifted, and in walked a guy—tall, broad-shouldered, slightly messy blonde hair. His ocean blue eyes studied her carefully, assessing. There was something about him—an effortless confidence, a quiet strength that told her he wasn’t just anyone. "You’re awake," he said, voice smooth but unreadable. "Good. I was starting to think you'd sleep forever." She pushed herself up slowly, biting back a wince. "Where am I?" "Safe," he replied, which wasn't an answer at all. At least not the one she was looking for. He crossed his arms, waiting. "Now, let’s start with the basics. What’s your name?" She hesitated. Her real name didn’t matter anymore. It never had. "You can call me Alex," she said finally, keeping her voice steady. Something flickered in his gaze. "Interesting," he mused. "I'm Agent Black. But most people call me Gunnar." Her stomach twisted—not with fear, but with something far more dangerous. She wasn’t just anywhere. She was with the rebellion. And now, there was no turning back.