By dawn, the garage was a warzone—scorched walls, shattered tools, and twisted metal littering the ground. But it still stood. Somehow.
Avery sat on a bench, her shoulder bandaged, grease smeared across her cheek. Reyna knelt in front of her, dabbing carefully at a cut along her jaw.
"Next time you tell me to stay inside," Avery muttered, wincing, "you better lock the door."
Reyna smiled tiredly. "Next time I tell you to stay behind, remind me that you're the only one who makes me come back."
They shared a look—a quiet understanding that no amount of fire could shake what had begun between them.
Nova appeared from the smoke, goggles perched atop her head. "We lost half the perimeter. Two bikes are gone. But the core's intact, and Valk's remnants are in full retreat."
"Good," Reyna said. "Let the underground know: no one burns us without consequence."
Nova paused, then tilted her head at them. "You two… okay?"
Avery gave a half-smile. "Better than okay."
Later, when the crews cleaned and swept ash from the floors, Avery and Reyna retreated to the upper level—the old mechanic's loft Reyna once used as a crash pad. The sun filtered through broken blinds, casting golden lines across their dust-streaked skin.
Reyna sat at the edge of the bed, silent.
Avery approached and touched her arm. "You're thinking too loud."
"I was ready to die last night," Reyna admitted. "I didn't expect to live. And I definitely didn't expect you."
Avery sat beside her, their shoulders brushing. "Do you regret it?"
"No," Reyna said, turning to face her. "But I'm scared. Because this—us—it matters more than I ever thought it could."
Avery leaned in. "Then don't run. Let's figure it out. Together."
Their kiss this time was slow—tender. Not fueled by adrenaline, but by trust.
Outside, the city healed.
Inside, two girls who had once been rivals, prisoners, fugitives—found home.
In each other.
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