There is no us

Greetings

Alex lay in the cot, staring at the tent’s ceiling as the fabric shifted slightly with the wind. Sleep didn’t come. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the sharp sting of the knife, the warmth of her own blood spilling down her side. She could still hear the echoes of boots chasing her through the alley, the pounding of her heart as she fled into the forest.

She was alive—for now. But that meant nothing.

Footsteps approached again, and she didn’t have to look to know who it was.

The tent flap lifted, and Gunnar stepped inside, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Still awake?”

She didn’t answer.

“Figured,” he said, stepping closer. “You don’t seem like the type to sleep easy.”

Alex let out a slow breath and shifted slightly, testing the pain in her side. It was still there, sharp and relentless, but bearable.

Gunnar pulled over a chair, sitting in it like he had all the time in the world. “Let’s cut to it, Alex. You’re obviously not some clueless trader who wandered too far from home.”

She didn’t react.

“You ran from something,” he continued. “And not just anything—something dangerous enough to leave you bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.”

Still, she said nothing.

He leaned forward slightly. “So tell me—who are you?”

Alex met his gaze. Calm. Steady. And completely unwilling to give him what he wanted.

“I already told you,” she said. “You can call me Alex don't worry, i won'tbe staying long.”

Gunnar exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with something almost like amusement. “Right. But Alex isn’t your real name, is it? And you're not going anywhere.”

“It’s the only name you’re getting.” She shot back with a hiss. "And I will not be anyone's prisoner."

Silence stretched between them. Gunnar studied her, like he was trying to unravel a puzzle that refused to give up its secrets.

Then, he leaned back, expression thoughtful. “You know, most people would be a little more grateful. We did just save your life.”

Alex tilted her head slightly, her voice laced with a mocking tone. “And most people would be a little less interested in interrogating a random girl they found half dead in a forest.”

Gunnar smirked. “I’m not most people.”

Neither am I, is what she wanted to say.

But she didn’t. Instead, she just held his gaze.

Finally, Gunnar stood. “Alright, Alex. Have it your way. But one day, you’re going to slip—and when you do, I’ll be there.”

He turned, stepping toward the exit.

“Sleep well,” he added over his shoulder.

Alex didn’t bother responding.

Because sleep?

That wasn’t happening anytime soon.

The camp was quiet.

Alex moved carefully, stepping over stray branches and keeping to the shadows between the tents. The fire at the center of the camp had burned down to embers, casting flickering orange light over the ground. Most of the rebels were asleep. The ones still awake were stationed at the perimeter, but their patrols were predictable. Easy to avoid.

Her side ached, the wound reminding her of its presence with every step, but she pushed through it. She had done worse while running for her life.

She reached the edge of the camp, the forest just a few feet away. The trees loomed ahead, dark and endless, a promise of escape.

Then—

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Alex froze.

Slowly, she turned.

Gunnar was leaning casually against a tree, arms crossed, his usual grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looked entirely too amused, like he’d been expecting this.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Alex scoffed, shifting her weight onto one foot. “No, I was just… getting air.”

“Sure,” he said, still grinning.

Silence settled between them. Alex's mind raced, searching for a way out of this. She could try to lie again, push past him, but something told her it wouldn’t work. Gunnar wasn’t an i***t.

She exhaled slowly. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said, pushing off the tree and taking a step closer. “You move well for someone who nearly bled out a few hours ago. Impressive.”

Alex didn’t respond.

He studied her for a moment before speaking again, his grin fading slightly. “You don’t trust us.”

“Should I?”

Gunnar considered that, then shrugged. “Maybe not. But running into the woods in the middle of the night while still recovering from a knife wound? Not your best plan.”

Alex crossed her arms.

His grin returned. “I do know that if you try to leave, you won’t make it far before someone catches you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean you’ll stop me?”

“I mean the patrols will,” he said, smirking. “I just happened to catch you first.”

Jackie narrowed her eyes. “So what now? You going to drag me back to my tent?”

“Nah,” he said easily. “I’ll walk you back, though.”

She hesitated. She could refuse, try to run anyway, but she knew he was right. Even if she got past him, she wouldn’t get past the others.

With a sigh, she turned away from the trees and started walking back toward the camp. Gunnar fell into step beside her.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?” Alex muttered.

Gunnar chuckled. “You’re not the first to say so.”

Alex shook her head, but for the first time since waking up in this camp, a small smirk tugged at her lips.

One thing was clear—Gunnar wasn’t going to make this easy for her.