The world turned to chaos in the span of three heartbeats.
One moment, Aris was standing in the middle of a lively market, counting bids and mentally spending her soon-to-be fortune. The next, the ground rumbled like an angry beast, screams tore through the air, and gunfire cracked sharp enough to make her ears ring.
Dust exploded upward as panicking scavengers and merchants trampled each other in a desperate bid for safety. Stalls toppled. Goods scattered. A crate of rotting dried fruit spilled across the dirt, turning the already filthy ground into a sticky, smelly mess.
Aris's hand closed around the hilt of her knife so tight her knuckles ached. Her body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring—years of Wasteland survival kicking in before she even had to think.
Trouble. Big, expensive, annoying trouble.
The raiders stormed in like a storm made of metal and malice. They wore matte black armor, faces hidden behind scarred masks, and moved with the cold precision of trained soldiers—not the random, desperate thugs she was used to dealing with. These weren't scavengers. They weren't looters.
They were hunters.
And their target was painfully obvious.
Aris glanced sideways at Kael.
He sat rigid on the wooden crate, golden eyes blazing with a dangerous, familiar fire. His jaw was locked, his posture straight, and even tied up, he radiated authority so thick it could be tasted. The raiders' gazes locked onto him instantly, as if he glowed in the chaos.
"The Lord of the Black Fort!" one of them shouted, voice rough and distorted by his mask. "Find him! The boss wants his head—alive!"
Lord of the Black Fort.
Aris's brain processed the title at light speed.
Black Fort. She'd heard whispers. A fortress hidden in the northern ruins, ruled by a warlord so powerful even the biggest safe zones dared not anger him. A man with an army, a stockpile of weapons, and enough clean water to drown a small settlement.
Important.
Very important.
Which meant his value just skyrocketed.
Which also meant a small army of heavily armed raiders was currently storming the market to kill or capture him.
Aris's mood soured instantly.
She'd finally found a salvage item that didn't weigh a hundred pounds, didn't have rusted parts, and could actually earn her enough coins to retire from scavenging for at least three months—and now raiders had to ruin it.
Unacceptable.
"Hey," she snapped, glancing down at Kael without taking her eyes off the approaching raiders. "You couldn't have picked a less dramatic way to crash into the Wasteland? Some of us are trying to run a business here."
Kael's head snapped toward her, disbelief etched across his face. Even in the middle of a life-or-death situation, she was complaining about her business.
"This is hardly the time for sarcasm," he growled, low and urgent.
"Says the man who got himself hunted by a private army and crashed directly into my salvage route," Aris retorted, tone dry as the desert wind. "You're less like a valuable warlord and more like a walking disaster with good armor."
The raiders were closing in, their boots thudding heavily against the dirt. One raised a gun, aiming straight for Kael's chest.
Aris's eyes narrowed.
If they shot him, he'd die. If he died, she lost her biggest payday in years.
She wasn't about to let that happen.
"Untie me," Kael said again, his voice sharp and commanding. "I can fight them off. I can keep you alive. But I need my hands free."
It was the offer of a hero. The promise of a protector. The kind of line that made weak-minded people drop to their knees and obey.
Aris stared at him for a full second.
Then she smiled—a sharp, amused, completely uncooperative smile.
"Nice try," she said, tone dripping with mock sweetness. "But I don't do 'trust me' deals. I do 'I save myself and you don't die before I sell you' deals."
Before he could respond, she grabbed the rope tied around his wrists and yanked him roughly to his feet. Kael stumbled, caught off guard by her sudden, brutal efficiency.
"What are you doing?" he snapped.
"Saving my investment," Aris said calmly. "You're not dying here. Not until I get paid. Now move—fast. And if you trip, I'm leaving you for the raiders. I hear they pay less than I do, but it's better than nothing."
She didn't wait for him to reply. She turned and bolted, the rope taut as she dragged him behind her. Kael had no choice but to run, his long legs eating up the ground even as he clearly hated every second of being manhandled by a scrappy scavenger girl.
Bullets whizzed past their ears, kicking up dust at their heels. The raiders shouted, giving chase, their heavy footsteps pounding behind them.
Aris weaved through toppled stalls and panicking people, moving like she'd been born running—which she had. The Wasteland didn't teach kindness. It taught speed. It taught hiding. It taught how to vanish before the bullets arrived.
She ducked behind a collapsed concrete wall, yanking Kael down with her. He landed hard, his armor clanging against the rubble.
"Quiet," she hissed, pressing a finger to her lips. "If you get us caught, I'm shoving you out first. I value my life way more than I value your ransom."
Kael opened his mouth, likely to snap back with some noble, angry retort. Then he heard the raiders' voices growing closer, and he shut it. Smart man.
Aris peeked around the edge of the wall, eyes scanning the chaos. The raiders were spread out, searching frantically, their guns raised. They were organized, but they were also loud—and loud was a fatal flaw in the Wasteland.
She turned back to Kael, her expression businesslike.
"Here's the deal," she said quietly. "You stay quiet. You follow me. You don't complain. And when we get away, I still sell you. Got it?"
Kael's golden eyes darkened. "You're still planning to sell me?"
"Of course I am," Aris said, like it was the dumbest question she'd ever heard. "You think I'm saving you out of the goodness of my heart? I'm saving my profit. Now shut up and follow me. Or stay here and get shot. Your choice."
For a long moment, he just stared at her. He'd spent his life being obeyed. Being feared. Being treated like a king. No one had ever dared to talk to him like this. No one had ever dared to prioritize coins over his life.
Aris didn't care about his ego. She cared about her wallet.
Finally, Kael gave a sharp, reluctant nod.
"Good," Aris said. "Now stay low. And for the love of all that's still functional in this broken world—don't draw attention to us."
She waited until the raiders moved past their hiding spot, their shouts fading into the distance. Then she stood, tugged the rope again, and began moving silently through the ruins, sticking to shadows and broken structures.
Kael followed, silent and stiff and clearly still furious.
Aris didn't care.
As long as he was alive and her payday was intact, she could tolerate a little attitude.
Behind them, the market continued to burn and scream.
Ahead, the endless, empty Wasteland stretched out, golden and dangerous and full of opportunity.
Aris smiled to herself.
Raiders were bad for business.
But surviving?
Surviving was always profitable.