I nodded.

“It works,” she said simply. “Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

She smirked faintly. “When it doesn’t, things tend to... escalate.”

I felt a strange pull to keep talking to her. She definitely could be dangerous, sure, I had seen that side of her earlier. However, there was something human about her, something vulnerable beneath all the fire and defiance.

“What’s it like?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Being... you.”

Her smirk faded, replaced by something more guarded. “Why do you care?”

“Because,” I said, hesitating. “I don’t think you’re what they say you are. You don’t seem like a monster.”

For a moment, she didn’t respond. Then she laughed—a soft, bitter sound that didn’t reach her eyes.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “I am a monster. Maybe not the way they think, but it doesn’t matter. A storm follows me wherever I go. People get hurt just by being near me.”

“That’s not your fault,” I said firmly.

“Isn’t it?” she countered, her blue eyes locking onto mine. “I didn’t ask for it, but it doesn’t care. It just happens.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say anything, she shifted forward, her voice dropping lower.

“And you? What’s your deal? Why are you here?”

“Here in the shelter?” I asked, trying to stall.

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Here, with me. Why are you talking to me instead of running back to your new friends in suits?”

I hesitated, the weight of her gaze making it hard to think. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I guess... I don’t like seeing innocent people treated like targets. Even if I don’t understand everything that’s going on, it feels wrong.”

Her expression softened, just barely, and for the first time, I thought I saw a flicker of trust in her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by her usual guarded look, but it was enough to make me feel like I’d said the right thing.

We sat in silence for a while after that, the hum of the shelter filling the space between us. I stole a glance at her out of the corner of my eye, noticing the way her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers twisting the fabric of her jacket.

“You’re different from those other suits,” she said suddenly, her voice barely audible over the distant rumble of thunder.

“I mean, technically I’m not one of them,” I said, “I kinda ended up with them on accident…”

“I heard your conversation with the two that brought you here. Most people in your circumstances would’ve turned me in by now,” she said, her tone unreadable.

“Maybe I’m not most people,” I said lightly, though my chest tightened at the thought.

Her lips quirked into a faint smile, but she didn’t respond.

At that moment, I noticed something wasn’t right. She seemed… blurry. My eyes struggled to focus on her.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry to anyone nearby.

She tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes flicking toward me before sliding back to the floor. “Fine,” she said, though her voice lacked its usual edge.

“You don’t look fine,” I pressed.

She let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Okay, I guess I’m not quite fine.”

My stomach twisted at her words, but I forced myself to stay calm. “What’s going on?”

“This,” she said simply, motioning to herself. Her hand trembled slightly and I noticed that the edges of her form seemed... off. It was subtle—barely noticeable—but her outline didn’t seem to hold still.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

She leaned back against the wall, her expression resigned. “I’m fading.”

My heart sank. “What do you mean, ‘fading’?”

Her lips quirked into a faint smile. “Exactly what it sounds like. I’m not meant to stay here—not in this reality, anyway. Sooner or later, it kicks me out. Poof. Back to wherever I came from.”

I stared at her, struggling to process what she was saying. “But... what happens when you disappear? Where do you go?”

Her eyes turned distant, and for a moment, she didn’t answer. “I don’t really know,” she admitted. “It’s... nothing, I guess. A blank space. Like falling asleep without dreaming. And then, eventually, I wake up again, and end up back here.”

My chest tightened. “How long does it take for you to come back?”

“It used to be quick,” she said. “Days, maybe weeks. But now... I don’t know. The time keeps getting longer, and when I do come back, it feels like I’m here for less and less time.”

Her voice softened, her usual sharpness replaced by a quiet weariness.

“What happens if you fade and don’t come back?” I asked after a long pause.

She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “Don’t know,” she said simply. “Guess I stop existing.”

The way she said it—casually, like it was an afterthought—made my stomach churn. “You can’t just stop existing,” I said, my voice firmer than I’d intended.

“Rio...” I started, but she cut me off.

“Don’t,” she said, her tone firm. “Don’t pretend this is some tragedy. I’m not supposed to exist. I’m just a mistake the universe keeps trying to fix.”

“That’s not true,” I said quickly.

She let out a dry laugh.

I clenched my fists, anger flaring in my chest—not at her, but at the way she spoke about herself, like she was some kind of problem that needed solving.

“I don’t care what the universe thinks,” I said.

“You’re stubborn,” she said, her voice tinged with a faint smile.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I mean it. You don’t get to just give up.”

She let out a long breath, her gaze drifting back to the crowd of civilians huddled across the room. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

“Next time you come back,” I said quietly, “meet me here. In the shelter.”

She turned to me, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “You don’t get it,” she said. “I don’t get to choose where I show up. It’s random. Could be here, could be the other side of the planet.”

“Then promise me,” I said, leaning forward. “If you’re nearby, if you’re anywhere close, find me. I’ll be here.”

Her lips twitched, as though she was trying to decide whether to laugh or argue. “You’re stubborn,” she said.

“You said that already,” I replied.

Her blue eyes met mine, and for a moment, she looked almost vulnerable. Then she nodded. “Fine,” she said. “If I can, I’ll find you. But don’t hold your breath.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” I said, my voice steady.

She gave me a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“Yeah,” I said simply.

She studied me for a long moment, then leaned back against the wall with a quiet sigh. “You’re impossible.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling faintly.

The shelter’s heavy steel door creaked open suddenly, and the sound of the storm roared inside, pulling our attention toward the entrance. Two figures stepped through the door, their suits soaked with rain.

My heart sank. Vale and Harris.

I saw Harris’s sharp green eyes scan the room until they landed on Rio.

Rio stiffened beside me, her body coiling like a spring ready to snap. I could feel the shift in her, like the storm outside had found its way into her veins.

“They’re here,” she said under her breath, her voice tight.

“I see them,” I murmured, keeping my gaze on Vale and Harris as they moved further into the room.

Vale’s expression was calm, controlled, but there was a tension in the set of her jaw. Harris, on the other hand, looked like a coiled snake, ready to strike. His hand hovered near his side, where I knew he carried one of those strange devices they used—devices meant to “neutralize” entities like Rio.

“Ben,” Vale said, her voice low but firm.

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. I knew what she wanted—knew exactly why they were here.

Harris raised a hand, motioning for me to move. His eyes flicked to Rio, then back to me, a silent command written in his sharp features.

“Ben,” Vale said again, this time more insistent.

I turned back to Rio, pretending I hadn’t seen them.

“I can handle myself,” Rio whispered, her voice barely audible, “I don’t want you getting in trouble for my sake.”

“Just stay calm,” I whispered back, “I’ll cover you until you fade away.”

Harris’s scowl deepened. “Move, kid,” he hissed, his tone edged with frustration.

I continued staring at Rio, pretending I hadn’t noticed them.

“You’re in the way,” Harris snapped, taking a step closer.

“What are you doing, Ben?” Vale asked, her voice calm but laced with warning.

I didn’t answer.

Rio shifted slightly, her form flickering at the edges. The strange, blurry distortion was more noticeable now, like a candle flame being blown out.

“This is taking too long, just go already!” Rio whispered.

I shook my head, and continued staring at her.

Her form flickered again, and this time it lasted longer. The edges of her figure blurred, the color draining from her hair and clothes.

“You’re running out of time,” Vale said, her voice sharp now.

I ignored her, and said to Rio as her figure began to fade. “Remember what you promised,” I said softly.

“I won’t forget,” she said, her voice barely audible.

And then, in the space of a heartbeat, she was gone.

The bench beside me was empty, the air cold where she’d been sitting.

I sat there for a moment, my chest tight, before finally turning toward Vale and Harris.

“Hey,” I said, feigning surprise. “Didn’t see you come in.”

Harris’s expression darkened, his hand dropping away from his weapon. “Pay more attention next time!” he snapped.

Vale stepped between us, her calm demeanor unchanged. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, her tone measured. “She’s gone.”

“For now,” Harris said, his voice tight. “She’ll be back.”

“Maybe,” Vale said. “Maybe not. She only lasted around two hours this time. She’ll appear once, maybe twice more, and then she’ll fade for good.”

I forced myself to stay still, my expression carefully neutral. But inside, the weight of Vale’s words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Fade for good.

I swallowed hard, the knot in my chest tightening as I glanced at the empty spot beside me. Rio didn’t know. She didn’t realize how little time she had left.

“Come on Vale,” Harris said gruffly, heading toward the door.

Vale followed, pausing only to glance back at me. “Stay here, Ben,” she said. “We’ll handle the rest.”

I watched them leave, the heavy steel door slamming shut behind them.

The shelter felt quieter now, the distant hum of the storm barely registering in my ears. All I could hear was Rio’s voice, echoing in my mind.

If I can, I’ll find you.

And if she couldn't find me, I would just have to find her.