“Then spit it out or keep your secrets to yourself.” This conversation wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.
“This is hard for you, isn’t it?” Yasmin whirled on me, arms crossed over her chest. “Having Riley show someone else an ounce of affection.”
And this was officially going about as well as I’d expected. I despised the way she said it. As if I owned Riley and his life wasn’t his own. If that was what she thought then she didn’t deserve him at all. “Given the gravity of our problems right now, Yasmin, that is the very least of my worries. Riley can do whatever he wants.”
“Oh, he will. That doesn’t change, no matter the issues I have with you.”
“Good.” I shrugged.
“Good?” Her eyes narrowed, disbelief etched across her features. “That’s it?” The frustration in her tone simmered beneath the surface.
“What is it you want from me, Yasmin? To give Riley my blessing? He doesn’t need that.” I meant it. It was me and Riley against the world. He’d said the words himself. Even if Yasmin was Riley’s forever, there was no threat toourrelationship. He was my brother, my closest friend, that would never change.
“He wants it!”
That was fucking news to me. I winced at the words. The room plunged into a tense, suffocating silence. Neither of us moved, the air thick with unsaid things, the kind of stillness where even a breath might shatter it all.
“He has it …” I cleared my throat and shifted my weight from the built up tension in my knees. “I have no problem with you, Yasmin. If you think Riley is holding back for some reason, then that’s not on me.”
“Bullshit,” she challenged.
There was so much bite in her. I knew she wasn’t my biggest fan after Mohammed, but this, this vitriol, it was new. She wasn’t usually this emotional—not to this extent.
“Look, I’m not exactly the warmest person in the room. I don’t know what you want me to say?—”
“Forget it,” Yasmin cut in, her voice sharp with finality. “That one”—she gestured toward the piece by the door—”that’s from a year ago. But this, this is now. All of it.”
“I don’t understand,” I muttered, studying the gore art she shook in front of my face.
“You came here to ask which subjects to cut and which to keep now that things are shifting, right? Here’s your answer.” She tossed the drawing aside, her voice edged with frustration. “Nothing. You can’t change a damn thing because what these kids need right now is stability. They don’t feel safe. If anything, they need more. More survival lessons, more combat training—especially the basics. We’re not sliding back into illiteracy on my watch.”
“I don’t know how to do any of that without working these kids to the ground. Between their work assignments and school, when are they supposed to be kids?”
“Amaia.” Yasmin’s tone softened for a brief second. “There’s a time and place for everything. And trust me, ‘being kids’ is the last thing on their minds. What they need is confidence—in every aspect—to survive. You know it, every adult here knows it, and those kids need to know it too. This art? It’s dark because they’re terrified. Literature likeLord of the Flieshelps them process that fear. They see themselves in it and learn to thinkcritically, to prepare for the worst. Take away their literature and art, and you take away the only outlets they have for coping while we prep them for what’s out there.”
“How can they know what’s beyond the wall?”
“TheSeer, she shares some things.” Yasmin paused and bit down on her lip. Her head swayed side to side, considering if she should keep going. “New arrival kids do too. Never in my classroom, but I see the kids rush around them for stories when they’re done for a day and heading home. It’s not just that, Amaia, they don’t feel safe here—as in, Monterey Compound. Not since the walls were breached. To tell the truth, no one does.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “That’s news to me … Thank you, for sharing that. Can I ask why this is the first I’m hearing of it?”
“If you want a list of reasons, we’ll be here all day. The main one? People respect you. They love you. Monterey Compound wants you as their leader—that’s never changed. The effort you put into keeping us safe hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
“But?”
“But,” Yasmin said. “The effort of keeping us safe does not equate to the feeling of safety once it’s been compromised. That takes time.”
It was a fair assessment—one I couldn’t deny. To be completely fucking honest, I possessed similar sentiments.Ididn’t have the luxury of expressing that, however. Alexiares was the only one who understood half of what I was going through, and even then, he didn’t know it all. I didn’t want my family to worry. If I showed any sign of fear, of doubt, then that was it. The rest would all fall apart. Everyone in The Compound was barely holding it together, if I broke, they all would. Last time was lesson enough. Jax had died, and Mohammed… he’d paid the price for my grief.
“And”—I hesitated—”how do you feel? Do you feel safe?”
“No.” Yasmin paused, then sighed. “Actually … that’s a lie. I do, when I’m asleep next to Riley. But I know it can be ripped away in a second. I try not to get used to it.”
“I’m not apologizing for grieving,” I said. My chest tightened as the fire beneath my skin clawed for release, pulling me back into that pit of grief, the unbearable tearing at my heart. “But Mohammed was special, and I should’ve kept it together. I should’ve been there for the soldiers, made sure we stayed protected. That’s on me.”
“Keep your apologies. The only thing I want is a promise that you won’t let yourself fall apart again. That you won’t make me lose another love.”
I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping. “Do I need to remind you the reason I fell apart? I’m only human Yasmin, and sometimes humans need to hit rock bottom before they surface again.”
