Chapter 46 The Hollow Signal
(Zuri POV)
Morning crawls in through a crack in the roof, soft and silver. The light catches the dust in the air, turning every breath into a shimmer. I haven’t slept much—not since Ember Pass.
Amani’s jacket still smells like smoke beside me. I’m sitting against the wall, knees pulled up, watching the faint rise and fall of his chest. He fell asleep an hour ago, head tilted back against the broken window frame, gun still within reach. Even in sleep, he looks like he’s waiting for the next fight.
I wish I could close my eyes and not see the same thing over and over—the fire, the screams, the way Antonio’s voice echoed through the comms. You’ve learned, figlia mia.
I hate that word.
I hate how soft it sounds coming from a man who’s turned mercy into a weapon.
Amani stirs, blinking awake. The first thing he does is look for me. Always. “You didn’t sleep.”
“Didn’t need to.”
He studies me for a beat too long, like he wants to say something but thinks better of it. “We’ll move soon. Ghost’s signal should come through by noon.”
“Ghost.” The name feels strange in my mouth now. “You trust him?”
Amani’s jaw tightens. “He’s the one who got the rest of the Kings out alive. If it weren’t for him, that ridge would’ve been our grave. He went dark after the blast—Rex found him three days later, half-dead under a burned-out truck. The bastard refused to stay down.”
The image stings in a way I don’t expect. Ghost surviving should feel like a miracle. Instead, it feels like another thread Antonio didn’t manage to cut.
I nod slowly. “So he’s off-grid, keeping channels low.”
“Yeah. Said he’d ping us once he’s set up north. Until then, we stay small.”
I glance around the old rest stop we’ve turned into shelter. The cracked tile, the flickering light, the silence between heartbeats. It feels less like safety and more like a pause between disasters.
Amani gets up, stretches his shoulder, wincing slightly. His knuckles are still bruised from Ember Pass. I want to reach out, to trace the fading mark, but I don’t. Touch feels dangerous now—not because of him, but because of what it might wake in me.
“You’re thinking too loud again,” he says softly.
I huff out a quiet laugh. “You make it sound like a crime.”
“It is. Around me.”
He says it like a joke, but there’s something underneath—an ache neither of us knows what to do with.
For a while, we move through the morning in silence. He cleans his gun; I check the maps. The hum of the generator outside fills the space between us. Every few minutes, he looks at me like he wants to ask what I’m not saying. I keep pretending not to notice.
Finally, I speak. “You ever think about stopping?”
He glances up. “Stopping what?”
“All of it. The fighting. The running. The pretending we’re not both just… tired.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Then, “If I stop, I start feeling it. Everything I’ve lost. Everything I’ve done.”
I look at him. “So running is easier.”
“It’s survival.”
The word hits something in me I don’t want to name.
I fold the map, stand, and move toward the doorway. The air outside tastes like metal and rain. Somewhere far off, thunder rolls, though the sky is too clear for storms.
Amani joins me, standing close enough that our shoulders almost brush. “When this is over,” he says quietly, “when your father’s gone—what then?”
I blink, caught off guard. “Then I stop running.”
“And me?”
The question is soft. Dangerous.
I look at him, really look—the scars at the edge of his jaw, the way the morning light cuts across his face. For a second, the world feels still enough that I could tell him the truth.
Instead, I say, “Then you’ll finally get some sleep.”
He smirks faintly. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I learned from the best.”
He laughs once, low and warm, and for a moment it almost feels like before—before the vault, before the betrayals, before my father’s voice came back from the dead.
Then the radio on the counter crackles.
Static first. Then a flicker of sound—Ghost’s voice, thin and warped through interference.
“—Amani, Zuri—don’t—signal’s burned—he knows—”
The rest cuts off.
Amani grabs the radio. “Ghost? Repeat that!”
Only static answers.
He looks at me, eyes gone sharp. “Pack everything. Now.”
My pulse spikes. “You think he’s compromised?”
“I think he just told us we were.”
We move fast—gear, ammo, maps. The air outside changes, turning heavy, electric. My gut twists. I’ve felt this before—the quiet right before the world explodes.
Amani throws the last bag over his shoulder and nods toward the bikes. “We move east. Now.”
But as soon as we step out the door, I hear it.
Engines.
Low. Surrounding.
A flash of sunlight catches on a rifle scope in the hills. Another glint to the left.
Amani curses under his breath. “They found us.”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs. “How? We were off-grid—”
“Your father doesn’t need a signal, Zuri. He built the map.”
The first shot hits the generator. Sparks burst in a spray of light, the explosion ripping through the silence.
Amani grabs my hand, pulls me down behind the bike. “Stay with me!”
Gunfire echoes through the canyon. Dust rises. Shouts. The old world burning all over again.
I clutch the gun, adrenaline roaring in my veins. I meet Amani’s eyes—steady, unflinching, the same calm I fell in love with before I even realized it.
He leans close enough for me to hear him over the noise. “You wanted to stop running?”
“Yeah?” I shout.
“Then fight.”
Another shot tears past, close enough to burn the air between us.
And as I lift my weapon, something inside me finally settles.
No more running. No more ghosts.
Just fire.