His body jerks again, his back arching slightly off the ground as his breath rattles in his chest. Then, all at once—
He goes still.
Nathaniel’s hands are still pressed against the wound, but they’re shaking now, his arms trembling with something close to panic.
Talon exhales sharply, like he’s trying to breathe through the terror settling over him. His head tilts up, his fingers curled into the pavement.
We all know what’s going on. We’ve seen enough of this stuff already.
But Nathaniel doesn’t stop. He tilts Cassian’s head back, pries his mouth open, starts CPR. He doesn’t even hesitate, just starts pressing hard, fast, desperate.
“Come on, come on, come on,” he mutters under his breath, his voice cracking around the edges. “You don’t get to fucking die, Cass. Not like this.”
No response.
He presses harder.
Nothing.
And there it is.
Cassian's soul.
A little blue ember lifts right from his chest, and my breath rattles in my chest. My fingers shake. Nathaniel is still pressing down on Cassian’s body, still trying, still working, but he must be seeing this as well. His hands won’t bring Cassian back. His methods—his logic, his medicine—none of it is enough.
“Fuck. Fuck!” A tear runs down Talon’s cheek.
Thepullwakes up within me.
The soul is mine to reap. Mine. I should take it. I should. This is the natural order of things.
Death has rules.
I've followed them my entire afterlife. Never questioned them. Never broke them.
Cassian's death isn't a murder. There’s no premeditation, no vengeful hands guiding his end. This is fate. He is meant to die here, now, and I am meant to take him. The rules of Karma demand it. He has victims—killers, yes, but still victims—who have the right to exact their justice.
I know the order of things. I shouldn’t deny it.
And yet—something inside me snaps.
“Not him,” I whisper, standing up.
His soul is tiny. Too small. It looks different from the others I’ve reaped before. Or maybe that’s a lie. Maybe I’m just making excuses. But I want to protect it. I want to protect him.
I don’t have a reason. No logic. No justification that makes sense. But I don’t fucking need one.
Because Cassian isn’t going to die tonight.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
I drop to my knees beside him once more, my fingers curling into the fabric of his ruined shirt, and I do the one thing I swore I would never do willingly.
I break the rules myself.
I don’t just reach for his soul.
I take it.
