Souls Below - Rebellion

Chapter Eleven.

I stood in the middle of the street like an i***t. Arms crossed tightly, and words jammed somewhere between my throat and whatever part of my brain short-circuited the moment Krane opened the door.

Shirtless.

Sleep-tousled hair stuck out in soft waves, his skin still flushed from sleep, and his chest—surprisingly not scrawny—caught the early light like it was sculpted just for maximum distraction. My gaze dipped before I could stop it.

Well, s**t. That was… unexpected.

My stomach flipped like it had no loyalty, heat surged into my cheeks. I dragged my eyes back up just in time to see the corner of his mouth twitch. Smug bastard. He leaned against the frame, stretching one arm lazily above his head. The muscles in his bicep flexed with the motion, and I hated that I noticed how defined it was. Really, truly hated it.

Krane noticed too. I quickly looked away, cheeks burning hotter.

“For f**k's sake Krane, do you even own clothes?” I snapped, trying to recover whatever shred of dignity I had left. “Or do I have to help with that too?”

His laugh was hoarse but genuine. “Glad to see your charm hasn't dulled.” I rolled my eyes.

“Glad to see you take the death-cough so seriously.”

“It's boiling in there,” he retorted, jerking his head back inside the house. “Strem's been working nonstop.” I focused hard on his face—just his face.

“But you just got back.”

“Yeah. And the second we stepped inside, half the district showed up needing pipework, sealant patches, valve repairs— you name it. Normally we get a break after a long haul, but this time…” He trailed off, jaw tightening. “They said it couldn’t wait.”

I glanced at the faint glow of Strem’s workshop sign, hanging crooked from the side of the house. “I've tried to help. He won't let me. Said he needed to work alone.” Krane’s voice softened, all the sharp edges dulled by something quieter. “He always says that. Like letting anyone else in means he’s failed.”

Krane’s tone had shifted—calm now, the unexplained anger from yesterday gone. The irritation was still there, simmering under the surface, but so was something else. Worry, maybe. Tiredness. The kind that creeps in and settles behind your eyes. I recognized it too well. His gaze flicked to mine again, more serious now.

“Why're you here?” I flinched. It wasn’t a harsh question, but it landed harder than I expected. Maybe because I didn’t have a good answer, or because I was here due to my illegal activity involving an Upper. Or because I hadn’t expected him to ask it.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then shrugged, playing it off.

“Maybe I missed the sound of your whining. Comforting, in a weird, sandpaper-on-bone kind of way.” Krane raised an eyebrow.

“Riiiiight. Definitely not here because you missed me or anything.” I made a face.

“Pfft. As if.” But something in my chest tugged. I wasn’t sure if it was guilt, or something heavier. Something a little too close to the thing I’d been ignoring since the day Krane stopped looking at me like I was just the girl without an ID, and started looking like he saw me.

And maybe I hadn’t quite stopped looking back. He didn’t press thought, just nodded once and stepped back, holding the door open.

“You coming in, or are you planning to stand out here like a gremlin, pretending I don’t look amazing?” I snorted, but the heat crept back to my cheeks anyway. Trying not to stare at his stupidly toned body.

And failing—just a little.

“I… uh...” The words caught somewhere between my throat and brain, and for once, I had no quip ready. A rare moment of malfunction. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the P.I.P. card, holding it out like it weighed nothing—like it wasn’t the most dangerous thing I’d ever carried.

The hologram flickered in the neon glow spilling from the workshop sign.

Krane’s expression changed instantly. The tiredness fell away, mischief sparked in his eyes as he stepped in closer, his fingers brushing mine as he plucked the card from my hand. My breath stuttered. The sudden closeness sent a low hum through my stomach—unwelcome, uninvited, and entirely inconvenient.

“You brought it?” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder like someone might be lurking behind the garbage bins. I nodded once, too tightly. He smirked—slow, crooked, my favourite type of smile. “You should be more careful flashing it around. You never know who’s watching.” Before I could sass him back, his hand wrapped around my wrist.

“Hey—!” I barely got the word out before he yanked me through the door, pulling me down the narrow hallway of his home. My boots stumbled against the uneven floorboards, and I let out a startled squeak, mostly out of pride. His bedroom door slammed shut behind us with a heavy click, and I flinched.

The sound was louder than I expected—louder than it used to be. Not that I hadn’t been in here a hundred times before. I had. This place was familiar, comfortable, practically a second home. We’d spent so many nights sprawled across his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling I had drawn stars onto, or out the window, inventing stories about a world that didn’t hate us. Somewhere we didn't feel alone.

Well, where I didn't feel alone.

But that was before I started noticing things, like the sharp lines of his shoulders when he leaned over a screen, or the curve of his jawline when we sat to close. Before the linger of his eyes on me didn't send a quiver through my body. Now… the idea of lying next to him made my face heat for very different reasons.

Krane brushed past me to drop into his usual perch—his dad’s old swivel chair by the main display unit. As he moved, his bare skin grazed the back of my hand still clutching my bag strap. Static, racing up and down my arm like a live wire. I blinked, trying not to shiver, trying not to let my mind wonder to what it would feel like if he brushed his fingers...

'Woman! Stop it!' I squeaked in my head.

The large, multi tech board blinked to life under his touch, casting soft blue light across his face and halfway into his room. Strem had fought tooth and nail to barter for that setup—city surveillance, back-channel access nodes, decrypted feeds. It was all second nature to Krane. To me, it looked like a string of numbers that could either unlock a door or fry your insides. It was a Fifty-fifty as far as I was concerned.

I dropped my bag by the door, only now realizing how oppressively hot it was inside, heat from the workshop bled through the walls, thickening the air like soup. I stripped off my jacket, tossed it on the floor, followed by my shirt, only to then tug down the zipper of my skin tight rubber work suit to my stomach, and yanked my arms free from the sleeves, leaving my crop top free to allow air to slip through the bottom half of my suit.

Krane didn’t say anything, nor did I notice the shift—the barely-there pause in his posture, the slight flick of his gaze in my direction before he forced it back to the card in his hands.

“If I’d known your place was a furnace, I wouldn’t have worn my work suit,” I muttered, perching on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on my knees. Krane snorted, not looking at me, pausing for a moment.

“If I’d known you were gonna look—" his voice faltered, eyes flicking to me momentarily "—gonna crash my day off, I might’ve cracked a window.” he finished. My eyes narrowed as I leaned back on my hands.

“Don’t tempt me to burn this place down.” He finally looked over, lips twitching. I almost missed the small flick of gaze to my stomach in the dim light. Payback for earlier, I guess? My chest squeezed with the motion but I kept my face neutral.

“Wouldn’t be the first time you almost did.” I smirked but didn’t answer. My eyes drifted toward the window, to the haze of rust-orange light creeping in through the grime.

My thoughts shifted—unwelcomed—back to the Upper I’d left behind. Still unconscious. Still hidden. Still a problem wrapped in secrecy and curiosity. I didn’t notice Krane watching me until he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he called, voice low. I glance over. He wasn’t grinning anymore, not really. His eyes lingered on mine for a second longer than necessary. “You okay?” My mouth opened. Closed. It wasn’t the question—it was the way he asked it. Like he actually cared what the answer was.

Like he already knew it wasn’t yes. I nodded quickly, not trusting my voice. He changed the subject, not pressing further.

“So… planning on adventuring without me?” I stiffened, snapping my full attention back to him, trying to shake off the weird knot in my chest.

“No!” I exclaimed quickly, a little too defensively. Krane raised an eyebrow, smirking like he knew exactly what I was trying to hide.

“Riiiight. You just happened to be distracted on the way to work.” I folded my arms, trying to look more nonchalant than I felt.

“Seems my body wanted to explore more than I realized.” He chuckled, the sound low and knowing.

“Always daydreaming.” I rolled my eyes and scooted back on the bed until I leant against the wall beside the window, trying to focus on anything other than how his words made something strange flutter in my stomach.

Krane turned in his chair, sliding the P.I.P. card into his tech box. The soft whir of the machine clicking into place echoed through the room, but the silence that followed felt heavier than it should have. I fiddled with my fingers, uncertain whether I should say anything.

The strange dreams—those dreams that didn’t feel like dreams at all—had been gnawing at me for days now. I wasn’t sure what to make of them, but I couldn’t shake the feeling they were more than just a by-product of my restless nights.

“Do you… ” I hesitated, unsure how to word it. “Do you think, when we die… we come back? Like, in a different life?” Krane paused mid-motion, glancing at me with a mix of concern and curiosity.

“You mean, like, coming back to life?” I shook my head quickly.

“No. I mean… still you, just… different body. Different place. But it’s still you, deep down.” He blinked, clearly processing, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. I dropped my gaze to my hands, suddenly feeling foolish for bringing it up at all.

“I know, it’s dumb. I shouldn’t have said anything— ”

“You been dreaming funny again?” he asked, his tone quieter than I expected. I made a face.

“If you're just going to make fun of me— ”

“I’m not, Mira,” he cut me off, his voice firm but gentle. It caught me off guard. I studied him for a moment, the air between us thickening.

“They’re… weird,” I muttered finally, my voice quieter now.

“Weird…?” he prodded, sitting up straighter, his curiosity piqued. I sighed heavily, feeling the weight of my own uncertainty. I hesitated before looking back at him, my words tumbling out reluctantly.

“I don’t know. Weird. Shifting. Things I’ve never seen before. But there’s always this tower— one that looks like the Central Spire in the city. I’m alone most of the time… or, I think I am. It feels real. Too real. Like, I’m actually there… ”

You'd have to be crazy to follow along that string of word vomit. I felt crazy just saying it. Krane, however, leaned forward, his eyes sharp and focused on me now.

“Anything else?” I wondered for a moment which one of us was the crazy one. I exhaled slowly, struggling to put the images into words.

“Last night was... clearer? There were gardens. Water. And the sky—so blue and endless. Like in the old stories. I… I don’t know why it matters, Krane. It’s probably just my imagination, you know? Wanting something more than this giant, gray, cell.” He didn’t respond right away, just watched me closely, as though weighing the truth of what I was saying. Then, his voice softened, quieter than before.

“Mira. What else?” I could feel the weight of his gaze pressing into me. I swallowed hard, unsure if I wanted to continue but knowing I had to.

“There’s... a boy.” Krane went still, his gaze intense. The shift was subtle, but it was there—a quiet tightening of his jaw. I could feel it in the air.

“A boy?” I nodded, feeling something heavy settle in my chest.

“Last night… he might’ve looked like the Upper. The one the guards are chasing.” His expression darkened immediately, the joking tone evaporating as though it had never existed.

"Jerard said you never saw him," I swallowed

"I... lied." the tension between us crackled. "I ran into him outside the market, and before Tyron called him a thief." My heart beat faster. It was the first time he’s looked at me like that—like I’d just said something that might break us.

“How much did your dream look like him? A bit?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Or a lot?” I didn't meet his eyes. I bit my lip, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“I only see half his face. Everything was still... unclear.” The silence stretched between us, long and heavy, until Krane exhaled slowly. Then, to my surprise, he relaxed just a little, his shoulders lowering slightly. His lips quirked upward, but there was a shadow in his eyes I didn’t like.

“Got a crush on the Upper, do you?” I gawked at him, my cheeks burning.

“I do not!” His chuckle was low, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He studied me for a beat longer, his expression sobering as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze now unreadable.

“Have you told Jerard? About any of this?” he asked, the question serious now, his tone sharper than before. I shook my head.

“No. Of course not. He'd lock the door and throw away the key.”

“Good,” he said firmly, almost protective. “Don’t.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off, already typing into the console with quick, precise movements. “Let’s see if this card is worth the trip,” he muttered, his voice taking on that familiar sarcastic edge, but there was something beneath it now—something that told me he wasn’t letting it go. Not entirely.

I stayed quiet, my heart still racing. We both knew there was more to say. But neither of us were ready to say it just yet.