Legs sprawled across the mat, one arm braced awkwardly against the floor, the other clutching Finn’s sleeve. Her lip is split. One eye already purpling, and there’s blood, too much blood.
But her chest rises.
Breathing.
I don’t realise I’m crying until I taste salt.
She’s alive. Broken. Bruised. But alive.
Oh, thank fucking god.
Chest heaving, lungs still catching up, I stop at the edge of the mat. Finn’s eyes meet mine—just a flicker, a nod, the corner of his mouth tugging with quiet relief.She’s okay.
My knees buckle and I drop forward, hands braced on my thighs, head hanging low as the breath I’ve been holding finally tears loose from my chest. Still, my heart won’t slow, it keeps pounding against my ribs like I’m still in the fight, like I’m still trying to stop it from happening. But itdidn’t. She’s okay.
I repeat it over and over. She’s okay. She’s okay. Until the rush in my chest begins to ease, until I can inhale without shaking. Then I straighten, slow, legs trembling, but they hold. Just barely.
That was too damn close.
No more lies. No more shielding her from the truth. She deserves the whole of it—the danger, the choice, the power to protect herself. I can’t take that away from her again.
One long breath, then another as I take a step toward her. But something hooks in my chest, a prickle at the base of my neck. The air changes—heavier, tighter. I turn.
Talen.
He stands at the far edge of the mat, dead still, watching. His eyes locked on mine like a drawn bow. I freeze. Since I arrived here, I’ve never seen him look at anyone like this. His gaze isn’t cold—it’s blistering. Controlled, coiled fury, sharp enough to rip skin from flesh.
The heavy thud in my chest slams back to life, a fast surge rising as he paces toward me.
Shit. He knows, he saw me interfere.
Any calm I’d scraped together shatters with every step he takes closer. The world dims, sound bleeds from the room—drawn to him, swallowed whole—until nothing’s left but the beat of my heart and the fury tightening between us.
Then, without warning?—
“What the fuck was that?”
His voice cuts clean through the distance between us, slamming into me like an arrow through the chest.
“What the fuck do you think you were doing? That little stunt you just pulled?”
He gestures vaguely toward the other professors behind him.
“Don’t think it went unnoticed.”
Brows pulled tight, he keeps pacing toward me—rage carved into every line of his face, yet his steps are steady, almost casual. Arms hang loose at his side, unhurried. From behind, he’d look like he was walking toward an old friend. But, his eyes say otherwise. His hazel gold-rimmed eyes are a fucking warning.
“No interference. That’s the rule. Pretty fucking simple, don’t you think?”
His pace picks up.
“God, you’re a problem, Bloom. A real thorn in my side.”
He’s too close now. Too close.
Every instinct in me screams that he’s about to do something. Something final, but my Threads are empty, and I have nothing left to fight with.
Heat rolls off him as he steps in front of me heavy with smoke, sweat, and something scorched. Muscle flexing, a living reminder of what he is.A weapon.
