As the morning light seeped through the cracked shutters, Arya stirred, nestled comfortably against Valen. Still half-asleep, she felt his warmth seep into her, the familiar heat a comfort she hadn't allowed herself in a long time. Without thinking, she snuggled closer, her body practically draped over him.

Then his hand slid down her side, his fingers trailing with surprising gentleness. His hand rested firmly on her rear, giving it a gentle squeeze. Arya, still in that drowsy space between sleep and wakefulness, felt a smile tug at her lips. It was oddly... nice.

But in a flash, both of them woke up, realizing the compromising position they were in.

"What the—" Arya started, jerking back, and Valen moved at the same time, their limbs tangling awkwardly as they scrambled to get away from each other.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arya hissed, her golden eyes glaring from beneath her hood.

"I wasn't doing anything!" Valen retorted, his voice sharp with embarrassment. "You were the one clinging to me!"

"I wasn't clinging, you idiot—"

Before either of them could continue their bickering, the door to their room suddenly slammed open, the force of it splintering the wood. A group of men in dark clothes stormed in, weapons drawn.

Without hesitation, Arya and Valen were on their feet. Arya's hood stayed low over her face as she moved like a shadow, her body flowing through the motions with deadly precision. She laughed as she blocked one man's swing with ease, dodging his blade and twisting around to drive her dagger into his side.

Valen was right beside her, slashing through another attacker. His blue eyes flickered toward her, frustration and amusement mixing on his face.

"You're a decent fighter," Valen muttered between strikes, knocking another man back.

Arya, her demented side fully in control, let out a wicked laugh. "If you fight a little better," she taunted, dodging a blow with ease, "I might let you grab my ass again."

The glare he shot her was priceless, and Arya almost lost her focus, laughing harder as she parried another attack. Valen grumbled something under his breath, clearly irritated, but there was no time for a proper comeback.

They worked seamlessly, their movements synchronized as if they had been fighting together for years. Arya would dance around an enemy just as Valen came in with a finishing blow, and Valen instinctively covered her when she moved in to attack. It was a brutal, efficient display of their combined skills.

When the last man fell, Arya stood over his body, wiping her blade clean on his tunic. Valen knelt down, rifling through the attackers' belongings until he found a note tucked into one of their pockets.

He held it up, scanning the writing quickly before handing it to Arya. "Looks like someone put a price on our heads."

Arya glanced at the note, her golden eyes narrowing. "Ordered by the same people who took Marissa, no doubt," she said, her voice cold. "We're definitely on the right track."

Valen nodded, his jaw clenched in determination. "We need to move fast before they send more of these idiots after us."

Arya couldn't help but smirk as she sheathed her dagger. "At least now we know someone's scared enough to try to take us out early."

Valen shot her a sideways glance, his expression still half-annoyed from her earlier comment. "You're insane."

Arya shrugged, a wicked grin hidden beneath her mask. "You love it."

~

Arya descended the steps with purpose, her mind swirling with dark thoughts, each step echoing her growing rage. The bloodlust she usually kept in check simmered just beneath the surface. Valen followed behind her, keeping a watchful eye, though he didn't speak. He'd seen the deadly precision with which she fought and sensed the storm brewing inside her.

When they reached the innkeeper's quarters, Arya didn't bother knocking. She smirked, sadistic glee filling her as she kicked the door down with a swift, brutal force. The door splintered off its hinges, and the innkeeper, startled out of his sleep, scrambled back in terror.

"Did you know we were almost killed this morning?" Arya's voice was cold and taunting as she stalked into the room, her eyes glowing with menace beneath her hood. The innkeeper stammered, trying to lie, but Arya could see through him instantly.

Valen leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching silently. He was beginning to understand that sometimes it was better to let the Blood Angel work. There was something about her ferocity, as terrifying as it was, that made her incredibly effective.

The innkeeper tried to crawl back, but Arya was faster. With a twisted laugh, she grabbed him by the front of his shirt, dragging him from the bed and throwing him onto the floor. He landed hard, wincing in pain, but Arya wasn't done. She crouched low, her voice a deadly whisper. "Do you know what happens to people who mess with my life? With my friends?"

Valen's eyebrow lifted at the word friends, though he said nothing. He had no idea who this woman truly was under the hood, but her use of that word caught his attention.

The innkeeper was shaking now, sweat pouring down his face as he desperately tried to beg for his life. Arya sneered beneath her mask, pressing the point of her dagger lightly against his throat. "You see, this is what happens when you try to play both sides. So, tell me," she purred, "who sent those men? Who told them where to find us?"

The innkeeper's eyes darted to Valen, as if seeking some kind of mercy. But Valen merely watched, cold and detached, offering no help. He wasn't going to step in—not this time. If the Blood Angel wanted answers, she would get them.

"I—I don't know names!" the man whimpered. "They—they just paid me to keep an eye on you! That's all! I swear!"

Arya's smile grew even more sinister as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against his skin. "You better start remembering, or I'll make sure your end is slow. Painful." She pressed the dagger harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "You have three seconds."

The innkeeper sobbed, his whole body trembling. "Wait! Wait! Please! It was some men from the tunnels! They—they work for someone high up! I don't know who! I don't! But they control everything in this town!"

Arya glanced back at Valen, who gave her a slight nod. She had her answer.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Arya hissed, standing and wiping her blade on the man's shirt. She kicked him one last time for good measure as he collapsed on the floor, whimpering.

Valen straightened up from the doorframe, his expression unreadable. "You're good at this," he remarked, half-impressed, half-wary.

Arya shot him a glance from beneath her hood. "Just doing my job." She didn't need his approval, but there was something in the way he looked at her now—something that said he respected her. Even if he didn't trust her yet.

For now, that was enough.

~

As Arya followed Valen through the decrepit town, her mind was plagued by conflicting thoughts, especially about that morning. She cursed herself for letting her guard down, for allowing his touch. Deep down, Arya knew Valen hadn't meant to grab her like that, but it lingered in her mind longer than it should have. The thought of how close they'd been—how she had practically wrapped herself around him in her sleep—made her stomach tighten with confusion. She didn't hate it, though, and that's what frustrated her most.

Her mind drifted back to the time they had shared a night together out of sheer drunken need, but this felt different. That night had been desperate, a simple transaction of want. This morning, however, had been something else—something that made her uneasy. She had slept deeply, unlike the restless nights when her thoughts haunted her in solitude. What did that mean?

Arya argued with herself as they moved through the town, struggling between duty and curiosity. One side of her insisted she couldn't let Valen distract her from her mission, couldn't let him cause her to question her path. But the other side whispered dangerous thoughts—what if? What if she let herself get closer to him? What if she allowed him to be more than just a mark or an obstacle? What if she allowed him to be a friend?

She scoffed at the thought, shaking her head. Ridiculous.

As they approached the edge of town, the dilapidated buildings surrounding them, Arya and Valen found a trap door hidden beneath some loose boards in an alleyway. They shared a glance, realizing they had likely found the entrance to the tunnels they had been searching for. Valen knelt down, inspecting the door for a moment before carefully lowering himself through the opening.

When it was her turn, Arya hesitated just briefly before lowering herself into the darkness after him. To her surprise, Valen reached up, his hand extended to help her down. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Arya's breath caught in her throat. Beneath her hood and mask, she was grateful her expression was hidden. When his hands touched her waist to guide her down, a rush of heat spread through her that she refused to acknowledge.

She landed softly beside him, and before she could stop herself, the words slipped out. "Thank you."

Valen nodded, though the look in his eyes was curious, as if he hadn't expected the gratitude. She cursed herself again. She thanked him, of all things. This wasn't like her at all.

As they ventured deeper into the tunnels, the air grew colder and the light from the entrance faded. They moved silently, both on high alert, yet there was an unspoken tension between them that neither acknowledged. Arya focused on the mission, determined to push aside the strange feeling gnawing at her.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the sense that something between them had shifted, something she wasn't ready to face.

~

As they continued deeper into the damp, dark tunnels, Arya felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, an unsettling awareness that something was watching them. Her instincts kicked in, heightening her senses as they rounded a corner. Suddenly, the sound of a trap being triggered reached her ears. Without thinking, she lunged forward, slamming Valen out of the way just as a hidden spike mechanism shot up from the ground.

Valen cursed, momentarily stunned by her quick action, but his gaze quickly shifted to the threat that had almost claimed him. Relief flooded through him, but it was short-lived. His eyes widened in horror as he realized the Blood Angel hadn't been so fortunate. The spikes had stabbed her right through the stomach, blood seeping through the dark fabric of her armor.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice thick with concern, but Arya only cursed under her breath, trying to push past the pain. She took a few steps away from the trap, trying to keep her composure despite the agony gripping her.

"Just—give me a second," she replied, her voice strained but firm. Valen was about to reach for her, to offer his help, but she bowed her head, auburn curls spilling over her face. When she finally looked up, her eyes—usually bright with mischief—betrayed the pain she was trying to mask. They burned with an intensity that made Valen's heart race.

"Don't touch me," she warned, though the fierceness in her voice lacked its usual conviction.

Valen hesitated, torn between wanting to help her and respecting her wishes. "You're hurt," he said, his brow furrowing with worry as he took a cautious step closer.

"I said I'm fine," she insisted, but the tremor in her voice said otherwise. He could see the strain in her posture, the way she tried to straighten up despite the obvious injury.

"Let me help you," he urged, determination rising within him. He wouldn't let her brush this off. He reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, feeling the tension beneath her armor.

For a moment, she didn't move. Their eyes locked, and in that charged silence, something shifted between them. The mask hid her face, but Valen could see the battle behind her gaze—the conflict between her fierce independence and the pain she was trying to suppress.

"Please, just... don't," she finally whispered, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her tough exterior.

He nodded slowly, respecting her wish but not without frustration. "We need to keep moving," he said, though his voice was softer now. "We can't let this slow us down."

Arya took a deep breath, steeling herself as she moved to put some distance between them. "I'll manage," she said, her tone regaining its usual edge, though the pain still flickered in her eyes.

Valen watched her for a moment longer, a mix of admiration and concern churning within him. There was strength in her refusal to show weakness, but he couldn't help but feel the urgency to protect her. He pushed those thoughts aside, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. They had to find Marissa, and now, they had to do it with Arya injured.

As they pressed on through the dark tunnel, Arya remained vigilant, but the pain from her wound was a constant reminder of her vulnerability. With every step, the tension between them simmered, unspoken but palpable, as they navigated the shadows of the tunnels, the fate of Marissa hanging in the balance.

~

Arya's vision blurred as she struggled to keep pace with Valen, every step sending waves of agonizing pain through her body. The spike had gone deep, and she could feel the warmth of her blood seeping under her armor. Each breath felt like it was dragging her back into the moment of impact, and the mask, already stifling, now felt like it was suffocating her. But she couldn't take it off. Not here. Not with him.

Why did I save him? The question echoed in her mind as she winced, forcing her feet to move. She could have let Valen die. She could have ignored the trap and watched him fall. But she hadn't, and now, with the wound slowing her down, she was paying for that decision.

When Valen, sensing her struggle, asked if she needed a break, Arya's reflex was to lash out. "I'm fine," she snapped, her voice dripping with venom. "I don't need your pity."

Valen backed off slightly, hands raised in a gesture of surrender, but his eyes were sharp with worry. "You're bleeding through the armor. You need to rest."

"I said I'm fine!" Arya snarled, the venom in her words a shield against the vulnerability threatening to break through. She couldn't let him get too close. If he discovered who she really was, everything would fall apart. He couldn't know. Not now, not ever.

Despite her words, she couldn't keep going. When Valen suggested another break, she slumped to the ground, no longer able to hold herself upright. Her body was on the verge of betraying her. Valen knelt beside her, offering once again to help tend to her wound, but Arya bared her teeth in a fierce growl. "Get away from me," she hissed, fumbling for her pack.

Valen didn't argue this time, though his frustration was clear. He watched as she dug through her supplies with shaky hands, trying to treat the wound herself. Arya gritted her teeth, biting back the pain. The spike had pierced all the way through, and though she managed to staunch some of the bleeding, she knew she needed a real physician. But she couldn't risk letting her guard down. Not here. Not now.

As she worked, she couldn't help but glance at Valen, who watched her with that same quiet concern. "That's twice I've saved your life now," she muttered through the mask, her voice strained as she tightened the bandage around her abdomen.

Valen tilted his head, confused. "Twice?"

Arya froze, realizing her mistake. She had spoken too casually, almost slipping up—almost revealing too much. The Blood Angel shouldn't know about Valen's previous close calls. Not unless she was someone who had been watching closely for a long time. Not unless she was Arya.

"Forget it," she said quickly, her voice colder this time, throwing up the emotional walls once more. She couldn't afford to let her guard down. Not with him. Not with her mission hanging by a thread.

Valen gave her a long, searching look, his brow furrowed in thought. "You're hiding something," he said softly, almost to himself.

"Stay out of it," Arya snapped back, her tone harsher than she intended. She couldn't let him dig deeper. She couldn't risk him piecing together who she really was.

Valen didn't press further, but the air between them felt heavier, more charged with unspoken tension. Arya's heart raced—not from pain this time, but from the fear that she had come dangerously close to revealing her identity.

Kael's interference with Valen's armor had been her saving grace during their earlier encounter. Valen might never know how close he had come to death that day. But Arya knew. And now, she was beginning to wonder if she could keep up this act much longer, especially when her own feelings were beginning to betray her as much as her body.

She finished dressing the wound as best she could, the pain dulled slightly by the rough patch job she'd done. But the injury was severe, and she knew she was only buying herself time. Valen stared at her in silence, his expression unreadable.

"We need to move," Arya said, forcing herself to stand, though her legs wobbled beneath her. "We have to find Marissa."

Valen nodded, but the tension between them remained thick as they set off again, their silence punctuated only by the distant echoes of the tunnel. Neither of them spoke, but both were consumed by thoughts too dangerous to voice.