Remy’s arm wrapped tight around my waist as he led me from the Ascension Grounds, his grip both protective and trembling with barely contained fury. My feet dragged, knees buckling with every step, and still he didn’t let go.
My squad stood just beyond the ring—frozen in a storm of rage and helplessness.
Riven’s mouth was set in a thin, trembling line. Naia’s fists clenched at her sides.
Jax looked ready to rip Perin’s spine out with his bare hands.
He didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, just stared at the Iron Fang rider with murder in his eyes. A slow, cold rage that made even Perin glance away.
Ferrula leaned in, whispering something to Jax. I didn’t catch it, couldn’t focus. But his jaw flexed, and he gave her the smallest nod.
Then I stumbled, and the pain ripped through me all over again.
“Easy,” Remy said, his voice low and steady. “I’ve got you.”
He half-carried me the rest of the way through to the barracks door. It creaked open before we shuffled to my bunk, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, my body still screaming.
Nothing was broken.
But it felt like my skin had been peeled back from my bones, my muscles twisted into knots.
I wanted to scream again. Instead, I just let the tears burn down my cheeks as I collapsed backward, staring at the ceiling.
Remy knelt beside the bed. He didn’t speak right away. Just reached for my boots and tugged them off carefully, wincing when I did.
“I hate him,” he muttered. His voice broke something in me. “I should’ve done more.”
“You pulled me out,” I whispered.
“You shouldn’t have needed saving.”
He ran a hand down my arm, slow and gentle, fingers skimming the bruises that were already darkening beneath my skin. Then he shifted behind me on the bed, one leg tucked under his body, the other draped across the floor as he pulled me gently into his lap and began rubbing slow, lazy circles along my back.
Not to seduce.
Not to stake a claim.
Just to soothe.
His touch was warm, careful, familiar in a way that made my eyes close despite the ache in my limbs. He found the places where my spine locked tight and pressed just enough to ease the tension.
“You always were too stubborn to quit,” he said softly, his voice brushing against my ear.
“You liked that about me.”
He chuckled low, sad. “I still do.”
We didn’t talk about what had happened between us. Not yet. But the silence wasn’t empty. It was full of old memories, of every time he held me like this, after the world tried to break me and almost succeeded.
I let him hold me now. Let him be gentle. Because my body was on fire, and I didn’t know how to come down from it alone.
And this time… I didn’t have to.
Remy’s hand slowed on my back, fingertips stilling like he was weighing something far heavier than pain.
“I never stopped thinking about you.”
The words were soft. But they struck like an arrow.
