A War

A War
Anastasia’s POV

The wind feels different today. Like something nostalgic.

It hums low through the trees, brushing past me like an old friend with a secret to share. I sit on the wooden porch, arms wrapped around my knees, watching the sun paint golden strokes over the distant hills. The quiet should be comforting. But instead, it feels like the silence is holding its breath—waiting.

Leomord hasn’t spoken much since yesterday. Not since the stranger with the scarred hand appeared near the woods and vanished without a trace. He didn’t tell me who the man was, but the way his fists clenched, the way his eyes narrowed—it was enough. The past isn’t done with us. And I’m starting to wonder if it ever will be.

I hear the screen door creak open behind me.

“You’ve been out here a while,” Maria says gently. She offers me a mug of tea, warm and sweet.

“I needed air,” I mumble, taking a sip.

She sits beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. “It’s getting to you, isn’t it? The quiet.”

“It’s not just the quiet,” I whisper. “It’s him. Leomord. I feel him pulling away again.”

Maria looks toward the horizon. “He’s scared. Not of you, but of losing you.”

“Then why won’t he talk to me?” My voice cracks. “Why is he trying to carry everything alone?”

Maria turns to me, her eyes soft but firm. “Because he loves you. And men like him, who’ve lived in the dark too long, sometimes think love means protecting others from their truth.”

My eyes sting. I blink quickly.

“I don’t want protection. I want honesty. I want… all of him, even the broken parts.”

Maria gives me a small smile. “Then tell him that.”

I nod slowly.

And later that evening, when the moon rises high and silver, I find Leomord outside by the old fence, staring into the woods like he’s waiting for a ghost.

“Leomord,” I say softly.

He doesn’t turn.

I walk closer, slipping my hand into his. He doesn’t pull away. But he doesn’t squeeze back, either.

“I know you’re afraid,” I begin. “And I know you think pushing me away will keep me safe. But I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you ask me to. And even then, I’ll fight you.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

“I saw him,” I continue. “That man with the scarred hand. He didn’t come here by accident, did he?”

Leomord finally turns to face me. His eyes look older than yesterday.

“No,” he says. “He’s part of it. The past. They’re watching us.”

“So tell me. All of it.”

He hesitates.

Then, slowly, like peeling away armor, he speaks.

“They sent him as a warning. They want me back in the group. Or they’ll come for you again. They won’t stop. Not until someone bleeds.”

My heart races. “Then we have to go.”

“No,” he says sharply. “We just got here.”

“But we’re not safe. I don’t care about the house or the quiet nights if we’re constantly looking over our shoulders.”

He closes his eyes. “I’m tired of running.”

I squeeze his hand. “Then let’s stop running. But let’s do it smartly. Together. We can figure out a way. Maybe even expose them. I don’t know. But we won’t survive this if you keep shutting me out.”

Finally, finally, he looks at me—not with the guarded stare of someone protecting a secret, but with the raw, desperate gaze of a man who needs someone to believe in him.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

“You do,” I say. “And you’ll have to keep proving it. Every single day.”

He gives a small laugh, then leans in and kisses me. It’s not hurried. It’s not fiery. It’s the kind of kiss that says thank you, for staying, for trying, for not giving up.

Later that night, we sit on the bed, maps spread out, phones charged. We begin to plan, not just for escape, but for war.

A war against the past.

A fight for our future.

~

The storm outside has passed, but inside me, something still brews.

It’s late. Everyone else is asleep, but I’m wide awake, sitting at the window, watching the wind rustle through the trees. The moonlight spills across the floor like silver water, and I hug my knees to my chest. I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Not just with the weather—but with Leomord.

He’s been quieter lately. Restless. He says he’s fine, smiles like he means it, holds me like he’s afraid to lose me. And maybe that’s what scares me the most. That fear in his eyes—it's the same fear I saw the night we fled the village. The night we left everything behind to find peace.

Peace… it’s supposed to feel better than this.

I hear soft footsteps behind me. He walks into the room, shirt hanging loose over his shoulders, hair tousled from sleep.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod but don’t turn. “Can’t sleep.”

He walks closer. “Nightmares?”

“No… just thinking.”

He sits beside me without a word. We sit in silence for a while, listening to the forest, the wind, the rhythm of our own breathing.

“Leomord,” I whisper, “Do you… ever wish we’d stayed?”

He glances at me. “Stayed where?”

“In the village. With Grandma. Maria. Even with the danger.”

He shakes his head slowly. “No. Not for a second.”

“But you’ve been… distant. Different.”

His jaw tenses. He looks away.

“Talk to me,” I plead.

“I don’t want to worry you.”

I turn to face him. “I’m already worried. You flinch in your sleep. You go for long walks alone and come back looking like you’ve seen ghosts. If something’s wrong, I want to know.”

His eyes flicker. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

I wait.

And finally, he speaks. “They’re still looking for us.”

I blink. “Who?”

“The gang.”

My blood goes cold.

“I saw one of them in town a week ago,” he says, voice low. “He didn’t recognize me, I think. But I recognized him. And that’s enough to make me certain, they’re searching.”

My heart races. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to destroy this,” he says softly, gesturing around us. “This peace. This life we’re building.”

Tears sting the back of my eyes. “We said we’d do this together, remember? You don’t have to carry this alone.”

He reaches for my hand, squeezes it.

“I’m scared, too,” I say. “But I’d rather face the danger with you than live in safety without you.”

He leans his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry.”

I close my eyes. “Just promise me. No more hiding.”

“No more hiding,” he repeats, and for a moment, the darkness doesn’t feel so heavy.