Talen turns to me. “It’s your choice, Bloom—if they stay or go, I don’t fucking care. But I’m taking this thing out now, and once it’s out, it’s going to hurt like hell unless we get it into something hot.”
Shit. I could insist Bren stays, get the spine out, hope I can survive the pain long enough and then get the water together. Maybe Ezzy could take it out, but she's shaking more than him. Or I could let them go and I stay here, alone with Talen—and put my life in the hands of someone I barely understand. Barelytrust. Yeah, he’s saved me. More than once now. But it’s never been about me. It’s about what he wants—and I still don’t know what that is, or what happens when he gets it. Plus, if I send Bren, I’m choosing Talen in front of him, over him—and there’s no taking that back.
A small tingle in my knees, the poison spreading, higher now. There’s no time, I don’t want to choose him, but I have to.
“It’s okay,” I repeat to Bren, quieter now. “You can go. I’ll be fine.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares, jaw locked. Then, finally, “I’ll be fast, twenty, thirty minutes tops.”
Bren and Ezzy disappear down the hill, boots kicking loose gravel as they vanish into smoke.
It’s just me and Talen now. His hand still wrapped around mine, warm and steady, like he’s waiting for permission to move.Then:
“You ready?” he asks. My stomach knots, nerves spiking hot under my skin, but his grip shifts, firmer, anchoring me in place. “I’ll be here with you the whole time. Okay?”
Okay. Okay, I can do this. I’m tough. I’ve survived worse. Haven’t I? One shaky inhale.“Fine,” I mutter, biting down hard, “just get this thing out.”
Talen settlesmy hand against his knee, and cold metal touches down a moment later. I don’t feel pain—the numbing still holds—but I feel the pressure, the slow drag of his blade tracing along my skin.
He’s slower than I expected, forearms flexing with each movement. Shit. This is going to take forever. And the longer it sits in me, the more that poison works its way through. My chest tightens, breath goes shallow and my hand twitches.
Without looking up, Talen brushes his thumb over my knuckles once—absently, then, calm as anything, he says, “What’s the scar from?”
“Sorry, what?”
“The scar on your other hand,” he repeats, still locked in focus.
I glance down, the burn mark. Yeah—no. I’m not going there, not now, not after today, and after the way he acted with Bren? Such a jerk, I’m not exactly in the mood for small talk. I don’t answer.
“This is going to take a few minutes, Bloom, and I need you to stay still. So we’re going to have to talk about something.”
My hand jumps again, damn it, I grit my teeth. He’s right. I hate it, but he is. If I keep twitching, he won’t get the spine out clean.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Was it you? I don't really remember, was it you who found me in the fire?”
The blade stills, just for a second, then, without looking up. “Yes”
“How’d you know where I was?”
“I bumped into Bren.”
My brows furrow. Ashvale’s small, but not that small. But before I can respond, a shiver slips through me. The breeze follows, cutting up from the wreckage below, cold and thick with ash.
“You’re cold.” He notes.
“I’m fine.”
Ignoring me, he turns, setting his blade down and shrugging off his jacket. Then he leans in and swings it around my shoulders before I can protest.
The fabric settles heavy, still warm from his body, smelling of smoke and leather and something distinctlyhim. It wraps around me, pulling tight in my stomach, a low, traitorous twist.
Then he leans back, his gaze lifts and catches mine. For a heartbeat, he goes still, so do I. My breath drags heavier, and his mouth tightens, jaw flexing, like he’s holding something back, but then his attention drops, hand finding the blade again, and keeps working.
We sit in silence for a moment longer, no twitching now, but it’s not calm either. Just frozen, wound tight. Like my body’s pulled to the edge and barely holding. Grief,yes. It’s painful, raw, sitting in the back of my throat like blood.
But there's something else underneath—his jacket heavy on my shoulders, the warmth of him seeping through, the slow drag of his touch anchoring me when nothing else will.
Something inside me buckles, a small, helpless give I can’t ignore.
