They told me what happened after I went down. How Revna intervened. How Kaia was thrown into the river. How she almost—
I stop the thought before it finishes.
She nearly drowned because I wasn’t fast enough.
It could have been worse.
It should have been worse.
She didn’t need me stepping in front of her like some martyr playing hero.
But a life without her isn’t a life at all. I should know. I’ve lived centuries like that.
The thought settles cold in my chest.
I shut it down immediately. Push it away. Lock it behind the walls I’ve spent lifetimes building.
I’m not allowed to need anything from her. Even if it betrays everything I am.
I will not make that mistake again.
A knock at the door.
I straighten, ignoring the way pain spikes through my side.
“I’m fine,” I call out, voice steady. “Tell them I’ll be ready in a moment.”
The air changes before the door opens—warmth where there shouldn’t be any.
Then I hear her breath.
Soft. Uneven. Real.
My entire body stills.
Her shadows slip into the room first—Linda drifting close, protective and calm. Carl darts forward, inspecting the bandages like he’s assessing the damage. Bob yanks him back with a sharp tug, edges bristling.
Mouse pads through the doorway behind them, tail low, eyes locked on me.
Then Kaia steps through.
Pale. Bruised. Unsteady on her feet.
She shouldn’t be walking. She shouldn’t be upright.
And she’s here.
For me.
Everything I rehearsed vanishes.
“You’re hurt,” she says quietly.
Just that. Two words.
They hit harder than the creature did.
I try to deflect. “It’s nothing.”
