Alyssa’s POV
It’s been days now—maybe three, maybe more. The trees blur together, and I’ve lost track of time.
I walk behind him—always a few feet away—close enough to follow, far enough to pretend I’m not.
Zev doesn’t talk much anymore. Not like before. He used to make little sarcastic remarks and throw in dry humor even when I didn’t laugh.
Now he’s quiet. His mouth barely moves. His golden eyes are always staring off into the distance, seeing something I can’t.
Like he is reliving his own troubles.
He walks like a soldier, always alert, always listening.
His back stays straight, but his shoulders are tense.
Like the weight of the world is pressing on them. Like he's waiting for something—or someone—to strike.
I wonder what made him a rogue. Everyone has a story. And most of those stories don’t end well.
So what’s his?
I pick up the pace and jog a little until I’m beside him.
“So… how did you end up being a rogue?”
He doesn’t answer.
I gla
