I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length. Building walls high enough that attachment can’t take root. Turning human connection into mission parameters and strategic assets.
It worked. Kept me alive. Kept me focused. Kept me from caring enough that losing someone would break me.
But sitting here in the dark with her hand on my arm, I can’t remember why that mattered.
Can’t remember why being alone felt safer than this.
“Luke?” Her voice is quiet.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For keeping me sane.”
The words catch me off guard. “I’m not sure sitting in the dark waiting for the ceiling to collapse counts as keeping you sane.”
“It does.” She squeezes my arm gently before releasing it. “Because you’re here. I’m glad you’re here.”
I almost laugh. “Glad you’re trapped in a cave with no way out?”
“Glad I’m not alone.”
The simple honesty in her voice does something to the walls I’ve built. Makes them feel thinner. Less necessary.
And the truth is—sitting here in the darkness with her hand just inches from mine, listening to her breathe, knowing she’s still fighting despite everything we’ve lost—I feel the same way.
I’m glad she’s here too.
Not as a mission parameter. Not as Vanya’s daughter. Not as the prophetic dragon I’m responsible for protecting.
Just… her.
Ember.
The realization should terrify me.
It does.
But not as much as the idea of being down here without her.
“Me too,” I say quietly.
She turns to look at me. Her face is inches away in the dim light, exhaustion etched into it. Her eyes search mine, looking for something I’m not sure I can give her.
I remember waking up with her hand on my bare flesh. Remember how my body responded.
Fuck. I can’t remember when last I had so little control.
The air between us shifts. Changes. Becomes heavy with something I don’t want to identify.
Her eyes drop to my mouth.
My breath catch.
“Ember—”
