He didn't raise a weapon.
Instead, Rael stepped back and let her see the full message on the screen.
A list of coordinates. Supply caches. Rebel safehouses.
"I sent this," he admitted. "But not to the regime. To the Phoenix Circle."
"The what?"
"A rogue faction," he said. "Rebels who think your camp is too soft. That diplomacy is dead. That fire answers fire."
Aria's pulse raced. "So you're what? Playing both sides?"
"I'm trying to win."
Before she could reply, the room's lights flickered red.
An alarm.
They were under attack.
Again.
Aria rushed out. The courtyard was chaos—soldiers scrambling, fires blooming along the east wall.
She grabbed a rifle and joined the front line without hesitation. Xander found her in the smoke.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said.
"I'm not watching anyone else die."
They fought back-to-back, fierce and fast. But the enemy retreated too easily. Like it was a test.
Hours later, after the smoke cleared and bodies were buried, Aria found herself alone by the river.
Xander joined her.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No."
They sat in silence, until she turned and looked at him fully.
"I can't keep pretending," she said. "Not with you."
His hand brushed her cheek. "Then don't."
Their lips met—slow, unhurried, but burning like wildfire under the snow-dusted trees.