Jake's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
It wasn't from exhaustion, though he was bone-tired, or from the pain of the shallow gash across his ribs. No, it was fear.
Real, visceral fear that clung to his spine and whispered that he wasn't supposed to be here.
That he was a rookie, a tag-along, a fanboy in over his head.
But he stayed.
Because Sarissa was still out there, and Shinji was a monster now. Because Victor had betrayed them, because someone had to stand their ground, even if it was not enough.
And because Miles would've stayed, even if no one else would.
So, Jake clenched his jaw, forcing the tremor in his fingers into a steady grip around his daggers. The blades were chipped, not from poor make but from overuse. The System hadn't offered him better ones yet. He hadn't earned it.
But he would, no matter what.
